


The Symposium

by OFMarcum



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Arguing, Awkwardness, Cora and Lydia are in cahoots, Curses, Eventual Smut, Greek Mythology Undertones, Happy Ending, M/M, Multi, Nightmares, Nudity, Pining, Polyamory, Rebuilt Hale House, Self-Esteem Issues, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, derek wants to help
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-10
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2020-10-13 21:07:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 23,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20589110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OFMarcum/pseuds/OFMarcum
Summary: “According to Greek mythology, humans were originally created with four arms, four legs, and a head with two faces. Fearing their power, Zeus split them into two separate beings condemning them to spend their lives in search for their other halves.”| [ “Τι γίνεται όμως αν υπήρχαν τρεις;” ] |





	1. τους εφιάλτες

**Author's Note:**

> I started this almost a year ago because there weren't that many stories within this specific pairing and I decided that i should just make one myself. How ever writers block literally kicked my ass and I've only been able to make large updates to it one month at a time or so. But I did double the original length of it along with adding more to the story and I'm thinking I'm around either the half way mark or two thirds mark. But it's just been sitting for months and months and I wanted to post it especially now that i have a good cut off point. I'll leave the old version up for a little bit but I plan to get rid of it soon. Thank you to anyone whomst was waiting for me : ) 
> 
> [loosely beta'd]  
[I do not claim to be a professional writer uwu]

[ Συμπόσιον ] |

  
  


It really was a wonder in itself, the fact that everything seemed to mellow down all in the same time frame. No more demons, no more alphas, the nemeton must have shut off its beacon or something. Because for the first time in as long as Stiles can remember really, things have finally just… Stopped, in the best way possible of course. That’s not to say he won’t wake up screaming on occasions, the nightmares are still very real and very present. But he now has time to focus on more normal things, like the fact that his love life is pathetic and painfully unrequited. It’s not even that he's worried he’ll never find his match. It’s that, he’s definitely found him, like one hundred percent. But, said recipient could quite frankly not despise and loathe Stiles anymore if it was physically possible, depressing and incredibly cliche. He knows.

A quintessential staple that predates scripture, everyone is born with a mark, with someone else sporting the mark to match. It was common knowledge and the center focus of every single romance movie. People dating outside of their matchmark was a very regular occurrence. People declaring everlasting love to someone else other than their matchmade? Taboo, to like, the highest level. Almost every report of someone finding their significant match made has been told to be one of the best moments of their lives. Stiles stays hoping, maybe it was a fluke? Right? Maybe his mark and my mark aren’t actually correlated. Maybe- maybe he’ll get amnesia and we could get a second chance to meet each other again? Wishful thinking. But it never ceases to make Stiles smile softly and then enter a quick spiral of sadness thinking of what life could be like if Derek actually liked him even in the slightest.

Stiles remembers all of it, well, that’s a little dramatic but, the big things for sure. Meeting Derek in the woods that one day looking for Scott’s inhaler, trying to play it cool and nonchalant. And promptly getting told to get the fuck out of here. Not really what he said but to Stiles that’s what the words felt like. Derek’s words always carry a physical weight to them, his insults and quips always find a way to make Stiles feel worse than usual. As if that wasn't enough to have Derek’s words slice right through him, Derek roughs Stiles up between time to time, not so much anymore but. Memories fade slow and lingering thoughts of  _ ‘does he still feel that way?’  _ remain at the back of Stiles’ head. 

Stiles always feels like he’s being over dramatic when he plays back his memories  _ “A theater of lies.” _ he thinks to himself. But there’s some truth to his words.The fact that Stiles has done so much for Derek, and the pack as a whole. Hell keeping a paralyzed Derek afloat in a pool for hours even though his muscles were literally disintegrating, deserves a gold badge of honor. But it seems all Stiles ever gets is side glances and a raised eyebrow in confusion and distaste. 

On the first ever pack training exercise they did as a, get this, pack. Is when Stiles found out that the rest of his life was seemingly put on gridlock. Derek apparently likes to train shirtless, Stiles later would find out he likes to do a lot of random fucking things shirtless, unfortunately. Derek was in the middle of sparring with Isaac, when he decided to peel off his shirt. He did the whole arms crossed over his head thing and, it was a menace to say the least. And for a hot second Stiles was starting to think pack training could be a good thing to come to regularly. And then Derek turned around, and in between the center of his shoulder blades was a large Triskelion. Stiles knew it was his mark for two reasons, one, the “ink” on marks never fades or dulls in color and saturation. And two, the top spiral was a deep red hue that slowly faded into black as it swirled into the center. Seeing that made Stiles mind freeze full stop. He’ll shamelessly admit he was kind of obsessed with the idea of soulmates and all that, secretly loved those cheesy movies. Stiles would look at his mark almost every day in awe, on his right bicep where is own Triskelion sat. The bottom right spiral was an electric blue that faded into black as it swirled into the center. And Stiles had always loved it, and almost even considered showing it off, but now, he could not be any more happier he never did, even to Scott. 

Eyes locking on to Derek’s mark as he stood still in a stasis. He quickly shook himself out of it, not wanted to draw attention. He frantically glanced around  _ just  _ to make sure no one could read minds or anything wild. Everyone seemed unphased, Isaac was getting ready for another spar with Derek as everyone one else was sitting around watching and lightly chatting amongst themselves. Jackson looked paler than usual. Stiles smirked to himself, maybe that asshole was insecure around Derek too. The session winded down slowly, and Stiles drove himself home. And all he could do was replay the images of Derek’s mark in his mind. Should he tell Derek? That's would matchmade people do right? Tell Scott? He could also really use some advice right now. Maybe ask Lydia for that instead? Were him and Lydia even on that level of friendship? Stiles sat defeated, and decided to do the most logical thing he could think of, and bottle it up and not tell anyone. Stiles isn’t saying he and Derek were super close, scratch that, even friends. But this whole pack thing, having a group of people to associate with? Stiles wouldn’t dare risk ostracization this early into a blooming pack. That doesn’t mean it wasn’t eating Stiles alive however. No one had to know that he stayed up more often than not throughout the nights googling if match marks could be wrong or faulty, taking surveys to find out if they were really match made. Googling if match mades could hate each other. If fate was wrong.

Flash forward three years to right now, and despite everything that has happened between them, all of them. The only thing that Stiles really gained from it was the thought, Was he even part of the pack? Let alone Derek’s actual mate.

  
  
  


┈ ┈ ┈ ⋞ 〈 ⏣ 〉 ⋟ ┈ ┈ ┈

  
  
  


Present day, Stiles sits at the ripe age of twenty, a true senior citizen. The pack functioning in as much of a harmonic fashion as possible. Scott decided to attend college about an hour and a half away from beacon hills. Coming back to visit every other weekend for the pack bonding nights on Saturday. Which, by the way were hosted at Derek’s newly built Hale mansion. _ “It’s not a mansion Stiles…” _ it definitely put his own house to complete shame though, alright? Cora of all people pushed Derek into revamping and rebuilding the old husk of the Hale house, something along the lines of _ ‘I’m not going to sit here and be reminded of what happened every time I come over’.  _ And it certainly worked, not that any one was in opposition, it just felt like nobody else had the leverage to make such a claim. Derek wanted to make it a place where the pack could converge together whenever needed and use it as a pseudo anchor, in the form of a building. Derek also informed him he’s not allowed to call it Hale Headquarters but that's between him and himself when no one’s listening. It really was a massive establishment though. A full basement under the huge workshop Derek called a garage, used to house all of the bestiaries, weapons, and really anything else they could ever need in terms of combat and protection. It really felt like a library suited for a wizard down there. Everything else though? Pure luxury, agonizingly so too. A ceiling around 60 feet high acting as the ceiling for the second floor as well. Nothing was to close in proximity to anything else, Derek really wanted to go for minimalism along with an open energy flow. Stiles teased Derek on that for a good four days until Derek gave him the glare to end lives. Although Stiles will secretly admit there is something relaxing about drifting through Derek’s home and not feeling like you’re ever separated by more than a few rooms. The “living room” was a large pad that was 4 steps down from the main entry level, a nice large rounded couch that practically demand sleep. An ottoman in the center with two love seats on both sides of the huge couch. All directed at a TV worthy of being called a mini home theater. Stiles is thankful Lydia was in Cora’s pocket for helping Derek furnish the place. The kitchen an equal sight to behold. A long waving island with the side facing the living room acting as a bar and the sink and cabinets on the other side, a little lower in height. Two french door fridges on either sides of the double stove top area opposite the sink. And a huge floating slab above the middle of the bar and stoves, to hold all of the pans. It was mostly bedrooms upstairs along with a very cozy game room for yours truly (actually Cora but he can wish) and technically Isaac. With two separate walkways that overlook the main floor, everything for the most part was within eyes view.

Outside there was a nice area of land before the clearing of the preserve. While the immediate backyard was an intricate path way of wood beams that lead to various sitting areas and hammocks, a section for the outdoor grills too. Derek had a special garden for growing herbs and magic flowers on the back side of the house. And he actually got convinced to get a freaking in ground pool in the backyard, the center point of the wooden trail. Stiles could go on for hours on end about the Hale Headquarters, it truly was breathtaking, even if he still makes fun of Derek from time to time. 

Derek specifically added several extra guest bedrooms that still could be classified as master bedrooms for the sole purpose of the pack moving in and staying with him if need be. The only person who decided to take that offer up was Isaac, which wasn’t surprising but Stiles couldn’t believe Erica and Boyd didn’t want to move in also. Stiles too wanted to take Derek up on that, but for some reason Stiles couldn’t even muster up the courage to ask, he felt out of line. But he knew it was for the better.

Cora went back to work on her quote unquote “projects” down south, which still mystified Stiles to this day on what that meant. And Jackson was still in London, after he spontaneously decided to leave. So while the pack was kind of dispersed. For the most part they all resided within driving distance of Beacon Hills. But tomorrow was friday, with a full moon on pack night Saturday. Which basically means that everyone is showing up. Wolf or not. And Stiles is excited to say the least. Regardless of them having pack night every weekend, pack nights on full moons are always more fun and always have a little more wild energy flowing around. 

But also, Scott lives an hour and a half away, and even though they were all a pack, it still felt a little like high school, two years after graduation. Outside of Scott, Stiles really didn’t hang out with any one/ He tried to ask Isaac to hangout and they ended up chilling in the game room. but he seemed like he could not have been more uninterested the whole time. He asked Lydia to go to the Movies once, just as a friend even, no three year plots involved, out of loneliness and boredom. But she brought Allison, who brought Kira, and it turned into a girls night within minutes. Not that Stiles would mind that, but they would have to actually talk to Stiles for him to be part of it. So. To put simply, pack nights meant a lot to him. The weekly ticket to get to interact with people he yearned to call his friends. 

⏣

Stiles quite frankly could not contain his restless body, and decided to head over to Derek’s place to see if he needed help setting anything up, instead of just bouncing his leg as his desk for the next five hours. Stiles gathered up his things and made his way to his jeep, enacting his lucky ritual to make sure it starts, and checking himself in the rear view mirror just in case he has something in his teeth or whatever. He checks out clean but… He tentatively brought up his hand to his eyes, carefully prodding around the sockets. He looked about as tired as he felt, a small part of his brain even considered if he should even be driving. But a quick reminder of what this weekend was and he was backing out of his driveway with renewed energy and making his way out to the Hale house.

Stiles absentmindedly drove all the way out there thinking about tomorrow and what would be happening. A small smile breached his face thinking about getting to hang out with Scott for a bit, they still talk everyday, but Stiles rarely gets to see him. Him and Allison are doing a semi long distance thing so every time he does manage to make it into town it's to hang out with her, not that he cares or anything, he tells himself. Stiles arrived and turned the ignition off, hopped out of his Jeep and strolled up to the main door. There was nobody in the driveway but Stiles just rather assumed Derek parked the Camaro in the garage. Stiles was face to face with the door and gave it three loud knocks and waited. About 30 seconds passed and he knocked again and decided to just walk in. They’re werewolves there's no way they wouldn’t know he was here by now. 

“Derek?” Stiles announced, taking off his shoes in the entryway. He gently walked in to the main floor and quickly glanced around. All of the high ceiling lights were on dim, but none of the kitchen or living room lights were on, which usually was an indicator Derek wasn’t currently in this part of the house. Stiles considered checking the garage but, stupid as it sounded that thing was large and he didn’t want to go in there alone. Not that he was worried, but. Subconsciously it irked him and he wasn’t ready to raise his heart rate. So he instead took to the curving stairs that lead upstairs, deciding to see if Derek was in his room, or if Isaac was home at the very least. He walked through the large overpass that stretched over the living room, glancing over the railing to the windows outside to see if he was at his garden. Nope. It was nearing 5 pm and the sun was beginning to set. Stiles looked forwards and turned down the enclosed hallway. At the end of the hallway was Derek's bedroom and Isaac’s right acrossed. Both the doors were open and he peeked in both. A soft light dimly illuminated both rooms but there weren’t any wolves within them. Stiles trekked back and decided to check the game room, if Isaac wasn’t there then he would officially call off the search and declare that they aren’t home. Coming back the way he started he went past the staircase and went down the other direction, looking again over the railing to see if he missed anything, with a different angle this time. Still nothing, unsurprisingly. With one last un-hopeful peek into a dark game room, Stiles officially decided they weren’t home. He made his way back to the stairs and started walking down them, his intent to go sit down at the couch and wait.

“I wish Peter was here.” He sighed loudly. He did a wide glance all around him. Yup, Derek definitely wasn’t here, that would have caused a stir if he was. So he padded down the rest of the stairs and down to the main living room area. He plopped down in the center of the couch and grabbed the remote. It felt kind of weird, in the middle of the couch. Normally he sat at either end of the wide ‘U’ shape or on the floor even. So Stiles decided to soak it up while he could and turned on the TV. He bundled himself in a large nearby blanket while He flicked through the channels, not knowing what he wanted to watch while also not understanding how this TV worked. How many channels did Derek even have? If he was being honest Stiles would be perfectly content with watching a simple cartoon show, if he could find one. He decided to just go channel by channel and see if anything caught his eye rather than figuring out how the guide worked. About five minutes in with no cartoons in sight Stiles accidentally let out a soft yawn. Oh god, he was really feeling it, and the soft steady airflow wasn’t helping. A short amount of time passed and Stiles realized he was staring at nothing really. He was looking at the screen eyes crossed. He slapped his face with both hands lightly and flicked through a few more channels and settling on some nature documentary about tropical rain forest animals. While he did love it at Derek’s house, he was starting to feel like he was just trespassing and also freeloading a little bit at this point. He really did come over here to help not just watch TV. Stiles decided that he should text Derek to see if he was busy, he couldn’t imagine Derek would take that long of a time at any kind of convenience store. Stiles looked outside and checked the sunset, it was starting to get dark faster. How long has he even been here for? It couldn’t have been that long. He looked down to check the time before texting Derek. Stiles squinted at his screen, looking directly at the time but not being able to focus on the numbers. Was that a six? He squinted harder, maybe nine? No that didn’t make sense at all. God he really was tired. He swiped open his phone not even able to be bothered by the time and opened his messages when he heard it. It sounded like metal on concrete. Which could only mean someone was in the garage. His first thought was that Derek must have dropped a tool. But if Derek was home he surely would have come and acknowledged that Stiles was here, right? Or maybe he just got back? Stiles quietly got up and lightly walked up the living room steps and past the kitchen to the garage door. Stiles was fumbling, his shaky hands trying to open the door. He was freaking out for no reason, he told himself. This is probably a two on a scale of ten, of things he’s had to deal with. He pushed the door open after a pause, and quickly assessed there were no lights on. 

“Derek?!” Stiles called out “If this is a long elaborate prank your trying to pull on me i'm thoroughly not impressed, you can do better” Stiles tried to put on bravado, but he could feel his voice quivering. A door across the large garage was promptly slammed shut, making Stiles jump. The door to the basement? Nothing is down there besides the library. Stiles was incredibly confused and beginning to tremble.

“Ok Derek, you win. Ok?!” Stiles voiced cracked while he immediately backtracked what he just said. Oh my god was that a tear? Stiles was terrified now. He took his palm flat and flipped all of the lights on simultaneously. He glanced around at the now illuminated garage. He could see across the space, the basement door lightly swinging open.

“This isn’t funny Derek pl-please!” And suddenly he heard paws leaping across the concrete. Stiles eyes went wide and he began to full blown panic. He tried to survey the area but he couldn’t focus on anything except the running footsteps. And suddenly a massive beast leapt over Derek’s parked Camaro, lunging straight for him. Stiles let out loud scream of fear. 

  
  


_ | [ ύπνος ] | _

  
  


“Stiles!” His whole body convulsed, eyes shooting wide open,looking around frantically. “Stiles.” His eyes met Derek’s “What are you doing here?” It was a nightmare...? Stiles looked around some more taking a deep breath and trying to calm himself down. 

“I…” Stiles let out a shaky exhale. “I came over t-to see if you needed help with an- anything.” He mentally beat himself up for sounding like such a loser but he couldn’t help it, he was still trying to recover. “I guess I fell asleep.” Derek eyed him cautiously. His eyes glancing at Stiles own.

“Everything is fine, I won't start any of the prep work until tomorrow morning.” Derek gave a brief pause. “Do... do you want to talk about it? I came home and you were on the couch with a pounding heart rate.” 

“Uh nah it’s cool.” Stiles huffed out a light laugh, trying to recover as quickly as possible. “I just had a nightmare that something was in your garage but…” he trailed off. He didn’t want any kind of pity or disappointed eyes from Derek of all people. “I uh, i’m sorry I just came in here unannounced, i’ll be leaving.” Stiles got up off of the couch and quickly began walking towards the steps.

“You don’t have to apologize for coming over here.” Derek stated, “Are you sure you don’t want to spend the night? You look tired and shaken still” 

“No- no it’s ok, i'm good. I need to go get some things anyways.” He was trying to dodge the conversation as best he could. 

“You know I made this house for everyone right?” Derek said, his tone sounded defeated, mixed with sorrow. Pity?

“Yeah I know I just, I.” He looked down and then back at Derek. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” Derek's eyes squinted, and Stiles quickly rushed out of the house. 

He got into his jeep and turned the ignition. He sat for a silent moment, and squeezed his arm, looking at the spot where his mark should be underneath his button up shirt. Stiles put it in reverse and backed up and around, and left the house as fast as he could. He shot another glance at his inner arm before accidentally letting a tear fall. Still shaken from the nightmare. But, also from what Derek said. It’s not like Stiles didn’t want to stay, he just didn’t want to lounge around as a plus one like some afterthought addition. Stiles relished this drive home to let his mind run loose. Why did it seem so hard for him to just have a conversation with Derek, or anyone in the pack really. What was wrong with him? Stiles was trying to shape up and show Derek that he has matured and is a suitable addition to the pack. That he was worthy of being a  _ mate _ . And then he goes and has a nightmare in the middle of Derek’s house? While he wasn’t even there?! God… Is this why Derek never liked him? He know he’s over thinking because Derek hasn’t been purposely rude to Stiles in some time now but. He can’t help but think. Does the rest of the pack secretly share the same thought about Stiles as he does himself? Is that why Jackson moved away? Stiles shook himself, why should he care about that. He pulled into his driveway and turned the jeep off. He took a deep inhale and held it, letting it all out through his nose. Tomorrow was going to be good, he tried to keep his thoughts on that, Scott was coming back, they were all getting together, it was going to be fun. Stiles let the mantra flow as he went up into his room. His dad gone on a double shift. 

He got undressed down to his underwear and walked across the hall to the bathroom. He stared himself down in the mirror, stealing glances at his arm. He went about brushing his teeth all while staring at his dark under eyes. He spit the water out and walked back over to his room, flopping onto his bed and pulling the blankets over him. Stiles hoped that he could redeem himself tomorrow in some way or another. His mind raced as he laid there, eyes getting heavier. 

“Just don make a fool out of yourself ‘morrow Stile.” He mumbled, before drifting asleep.

  
  


**┈ ┈ ┈ ⋞ 〈 ⏣ 〉 ⋟ ┈ ┈ ┈**

  
  


Stiles’ eyes flutter open slowly, not wanting to commit to waking up just yet. He stares at his ceiling through his barely opened eyes, watching the way the sun filters through his curtain and dance upon his ceiling. He felt, more at peace in this moment than he has in awhile if he was being honest with himself. Judging by the location of the sun beams on his ceiling, he’s under the assumption that it’s around 10:00 AM. He rolls over onto his side and shuts his eyes again wanted to feel the embrace of sleep again. The ever present thought of today loomed in his mind as he lay there. His mind beginning to race with anticipation, excitement, and slight nausea, Stiles decided that he was awake for the day and rolled out of bed, swinging his legs over. He got out of bed fully, finding some simple things to throw on before he committed to getting ready later. He went over to his desk and picked up his phone seeing that he was almost accurate, it being 10:25 am, still not bad. A message from his dad saying he was leaving for the day and to have fun tonight _ (also to be safe) _ . He smiled at that. Another message from Scott saying that he was leaving his dorm at around noon, asking if he wanted to ride to Derek's together or meet him there. Stiles quickly replied saying he’d meet him there and to  _ please  _ not ride his motorcycle. And a message from… Isaac? They almost never talked, his heart starting beating a little hard just from seeing the notification. Apprehensive to what the message could be he decided to rip the band aid off and just see what he wanted. It showed that it was sent at 3 o’clock this morning. 

From Isaac [3:12]:  _ Hey I just wanted to make sure you were ok. We got home last night and you were on the couch having a nightmare? Derek told us to go upstairs to not crowd you _ .

_ Us? _ Stiles thought quickly before realizing that Isaac also saw him having an episode. Not that there was anything he could really do about it. But that doesn’t mean it was any less embarrassing

To Isaac [10:27]:  _ I'm good i just fell asleep and had a small nightmare.  _

He hit send and did a quick check of his social media, scrolling through Instagram and Facebook. Twitter headlines said that a matchmade pair down in Brazil have a net worth of a billion dollars. Stiles couldn’t imagine. His phone buzzed, a message from Isaac saying “kk” with a thumbs up emoji. Anyone else sending a message like that would have Stiles thinking he crossed a line and had them passive aggressive. But he brought it up to Isaac once, and Isaac said that not really having internet growing up affected his texting mannerism. Which Stiles believed and also didn’t want to push any further. Not that he doesn’t care about Isaac but he just really feels like Isaac doesn’t want to talk about those things.

He went back into the messages and re-read them. Not a lot of conversations over text have been exchanged between them. But, he was tunnel focused on that word. “Us”, told us? Who, was us? Who else was with Isaac. Stiles had a hard enough time keeping it cool with the actual pack, he didn’t want some random there tonight. God, he thought, getting upstaged by someone they just met. Stiles could see it now, this stranger making everyone laugh and have a good time, while Stiles bit his tongue trying not to be an embarrassing spaz. He decided that he wasn’t going to sit here and put together a puzzle with no pieces in his mind. He went to Derek’s messages and just figured he’d out right ask, for once in his life. He carefully worded his message to not throw Isaac under the bus and to not directly question who the stranger was.

To Sourwolf [10:34]: Hey uh, what were you and Isaac doing last night by the way? You were gone for a bit.

He sent it and closed his eyes, his mind mentally exploding from dread. This topic wasn’t super hush hush but Stiles trying to demand any kind of information especially from Derek felt like a power play to him. Not like, werewolf power dynamic pushing, but just like. Stiles sat there trying to figure out what he was really thinking. He knew what he meant, messaging Derek always felt like a trap door risk, where Derek would just finally tell him to shut up and stop coming over or something. Stiles is falling victim to the maximum of false scenarios that don’t really have a chance of happening. He’s brought out of it by his phone buzzing. Derek and Isaac both responding fast today. He looked down to his phone and saw ‘Sourwolf’. And the quick glance at the message preview sent his heart beating frantically. Stiles thought he might actually faint from feeling so sick suddenly.

From Sourwolf [10:35]: We went to the Airport to pick up Cora. Why? 

To Sourwolf [10:35]: was just wondering

He sent back quickly. Oh god he could feel his stomach drop. Cora?! They flew Cora up here?! Stiles felt instantly queasy, dry heaving a little. He really was going to throw up, oh my god. He dashed to the bathroom and stood there frozen, tasting that weird amount of saliva beginning to pool his mouth in preparation, his stomach trying to earn a boy scout badge for complex knots. He closed his eyes tight and tried to focus on anything else, desperately trying to ease the tension in his stomach. Not only did he not want to vomit in general, but he especially didn’t want to show up to pack night smelling like illness. Every swallow like walking through a minefield, avoiding setting off his stomach in every way possible. Stiles opened his mouth to take a deep breath when he heard his phone notification go off from his room. And just like that Stiles was rushing to the floor and aiming into the toilet. His body expelling gastric acid basically. He hasn’t eaten in a while now that he thinks of it. Kneeling there he waited for a little bit before another wave rushed out of him. He flushed quickly once the feeling of calmness was beginning to wash back over him. He got up from the floor and immediately brushed his teeth as hard as he could. Gargling hot water trying to get that wretched taste out of his mouth. Stiles looked himself dead on in the mirror, he could feel a headache forming from the aftermath, and his eyes still looked a little droopy from poor sleep. He opened the cabinet and took some aspirin hoping to curb the headache before it could really start and and headed back to his room.

The first thing he did was open his window, using every method he could think of to try and overcome that little episode. And went to check his phone.

From Sourwolf [10:39]: is there a problem with that?

A simple question, Stiles initially thinking it was a demand but brushed it off as a general concern. Fuck, in that short amount of time in the bathroom Stiles completely forgot why he was even puking. But, This was supposed to be Stiles one allotted night to have fun a week and hang out with his-- with the pack. But now Cora was here, and he could feel it in his entire gut, she was going to cause a problem. 

“Ugh” Stiles sighed out loud, exasperated. “I just, I just want to be able to have fun” He whispered weakly, talking to himself out of stress. 

Stiles deliberately made sure from the jump that he kept his match mark hidden because he didn’t want it to become another point of ridicule from other peers. He remembers being made fun of for wearing plaid all of the time. For talking to fast, or for making too many hand gestures, and on and on. He was not about to have to constantly grimace by looking at his own mark in disgust. So he hid it, always wearing long sleeves or at least sleeves that went to his elbow. Never even telling Scott, he always brushed it off saying that he didn’t have one yet, even though that lie won't last much longer now that Scott is more persistent about it. And for the most part, Stiles did fantastic and keeping it hidden. I mean like, keeping Derek afloat in a pool for two hours? Getting possessed? Still keeping it concealed, a pretty good track record if you ask.

But Stiles remembers vividly that night about two years ago. A looming threat of several omegas running together in a loose group. Cora and Boyd were sent out to investigate and stop them if possible. Stiles volunteering to go along because he wanted to help even the numbers, but really he just wanted to show he could be useful. Boyd went ahead on a scent trail in the edge of the preserve, Cora following with Stiles trailing behind. Apparently one of the Omegas separated from the group and Boyd singled him out. Nothing eventful happened really, Boyd said he’d take the Omega back to Derek and Cora offered to help Stiles walk back to the Hale House. Boyd split off trying to take a path that was farthest away from the other Omega scent trails. While Stiles and Cora started walking straight back to the house. And to this day Stiles still beats himself about it, in retrospect. Making it as far as he did in his life hiding it. The clearing of the house was just in sight and Stiles slipped on a wet patch of mud, stumbling forwards into branches. The branches were a lot sharper than anticipated and cut Stiles up fairly bad, if he’s being frank. He not so gracefully stood up and brushed himself off, wincing at the cuts. His eyes glanced to Cora, seeing if he made a huge fool of himself or not, but her eyes were wide and her jaw slack. Stiles looked at her eyes and followed the trajectory back to where she was looking, and evidently, one of the branches sliced open his sleeve on his right arm, right where his mark was. Her eyes darted to the house which was now in view, and Stiles quickly leaped forwards grabbing her arm.

“Cora please!” Stiles cried out “I don't know what you plan on doing but do  _ not  _ do it!” She looked back at him, their eyes meeting this time. She looked, annoyed.

“Were you just planning on taking this to your grave?” She said with a clipped tone. Stiles suddenly thought about the question, unsure of whether or not those were his intentions. “You are! Stiles!”

“I-What, What if i am?” He shot back, with little conviction in his voice, it really sounded lame out loud.

“Stiles… I’m going to tell him, this is not the kind of secret I'm going to keep.” She stated simply but dangerous. Stiles felt like the moon above was plummeting towards him. He could not afford to lose his only way of seeing Derek by exposing himself. Derek would hate him, that much he was confident of.

“Cora you don't understand.” He interjected. “Derek always talks about how marks are completely stupid and, and how its a waste of time. I… I don't think he wants any kind of relationship after what happened to-” He paused, remembering it directly affected her as well. “Uh, After all that happened. And on top of that I'm pretty sure he can’t stand me. Like serious levels of loathing!” 

“You’re  _ pretty _ sure? Or your positive.” 

“I- Why does it m-matter?” 

Cora sighed. “You’re such a moron.” but cora glanced back and saw that Stiles was on the verge of a mental collapse, she sighed lightly. “Listen, i’ll keep my mouth shut.” Stiles suddenly calmed at the words. “--But! If he asks me, I'm telling him up front.” Stiles frown returned slightly

“But if--” Cora cut him off sharply.

“I don't have anything against you, but i will always have Derek's best interests over anyone else? Got it.” Stiles nodded. “And if you don’t have this figured out yourself soon, so help me you are going to be in a world of hurt.” 

Stiles gulped, palms sweaty from the words alone, by Cora already turned towards the house and began walking, Stiles stayed for a few seconds to mentally gather himself before following suit. Direly hoping that Cora would actually keep this a secret.

He shook himself from his memories, feeling completely lost in his own room. He forgot what he was doing. Oh. Right. Pack night was tonight, he grabbed his phone from where he set it down and checked the time, now 11 am. He sent Derek a quick text asking if he could come over soon to help out and decided to get ready. Scouring through his clean clothes and picking out something simple outfit consisting of a white shirt with a basic plan button up and a pair of jeans. He laid them on his bed and headed to the bathroom to go shower, stripping his clothes off along the way. He turned the water on fumbling with the temperature for a minute and then stepping in. He stood there caressing his body, getting wet, and just contemplated the day ahead. Combing the shampoo through his hair he mentally questioned if Cora was still on her vendetta about the mark. Stiles severely considering dropping of the face of the planet. Scratch that, the entire solar system. He did not want this confrontation and he knew the longer he put it off the more volatile it became. Even though Stiles bulked up a little bit, and let his hair grow out, he was still severely intimidated by Derek’s everything. Stiles actually thought he was fairly attractive, if he was being honest. But being put to the test against Derek? Laughable. Muscle god perfection, Stiles knows first hand because he has a thing for running around shirtless and wearing tight pants. God even his mark looked sexy on him. He was confident that Derek also measured up longer than him too. He’s glanced one too many times at Derek's crotch to not get an idea. Stiles looked down at his own dick while he was rinsing the shampoo. It was nice, flushed with color, a little plump, but not that long. Average, to put simply. He started massaging the conditioner in and just let ideas run through his head of what would happen if Derek found out. He let Cora’s words echo in his mind.  _ “Do you plan on taking this to your grave?”  _ At this point, he really didn’t know anymore. He was almost fucking 20 and still was dancing around the idea of even telling Derek. But regardless, Stiles felt frozen inside his own making, he tried practicing in front of a mirror. But he opened his mouth and the air stifled, he didn't even want to say it out loud. He started scrubbing his body while the conditioner rinsed out and just hoped that tonight would go smoothly, he really didn’t want to have to go home crying on the only night he got bond with the pack. 

He finished up and got out of the shower. Wrapping himself in towels and grabbing his toothbrush. He brushed his teeth once more to get the taste out, and walked back to his room to check his phone quick. He was positive Derek would’ve said yes by now but he just wanted to make sure. He was right, no sweat. Derek said come over whenever you want, which made Stiles heart flutter for some reason, and went back to the bathroom. He finished up brushing his teeth and fully dried off, returning back to his bedroom. Stiles gracefully put on his clothes, his mind convincing him that he’d feel cleaner if he put them on with purpose. Grabbed his keys and wallet, and headed downstairs. He slipped his shoes on and headed out the door to his Jeep, opting out of grabbing a small snack fully knowing that there's going to be a buffet at Derek's. He hopped into the driver's seat and went to turn the ignition but stopped mid way. He was fully aware of this day and what was going to happen, but it just now became a complete reality to him. He could feel it in his bones, deep down, that something unpleasant was going to happen today whether or not it regarded his mark. Sitting there with dead eyes Stiles wondered if he should just call Derek right now and tell him he’s sick, maybe ask if Cora’s stay is more semi permanent than he hoped. He shook his head and started his car. Pushing past his nerves and decided to just let this storm sift him around however it felt. Stiles backed out of his driveway and headed straight for the Hale house, absentmindedly rubbing his mark through his shirt. 

The drive out to Derek’s house simultaneously felt like it took forever while also taking no time at all. Ominous looming dread can really alter how you perceive time. He pulled up the driveway and parked, only 11:30, and Scott wouldn’t leave until noon. So it looks like he’d just have to brave this storm all by his lonesome. It looked like Erica and Boyd were already here, along with Danny, which wasn’t odd but certainly interesting. Stiles parked next to Danny’s car, and just sat there, not even bothering turning off the jeep just yet. Stiles knew by vehicles who was here, but he would also assume Cora and Isaac were somewhere in the fold due to the fact they all rode with Derek. He turned off the jeep but still was reluctant to get out. Doing a mental checklist of who all was yet to come tonight. Lydia, Allison, Scott, Kira, Parrish, and… Well he guesses the only person missing was Jackson but that was outside the realm of possibilities at this moment. He never did say how long his stay was going to last but Stiles secretly hopes forever. His hatred for Jackson has started to mellow but he knew as soon as he saw that douc-- 

“Stiles!” He jumped, higher than he ever has in his life, and looked to his left to find Erica at his window. “Did you plan on coming inside today orrr?” she muffled through the window

“Um actually I think I'm going to go home.” he said with a smirk, but with a hint of truth and want

“Oh my god shut up.” Erica said as she opened his jeep door for him. “Listen Derek sent Cora and Isaac to get like a shit load of snacks so me and Danny are just making fun of nature documentaries.”

Stiles was already perking up, the general familiarity of the setting along with Cora being temporarily MIA gave him the slight boost that was needed. He followed her up to the house making small talk. 

“So what are Boyd and Derek doing then?” he inquired

“Oh they’re in the kitchen making some kind of steak whatever, don't tell Derek but Boyd is totally pulling the weight in the cooking department... guess my man is better.” she winked at him while Stiles flushed pink and coughed on the spit that got stuck in his throat. “Oh my god Stiles it was a joke you loser.” she punched his arm and opened the door, allowing him to waltz in first. They removed their shoes in the entry hall, and proceeded in, the first thing that Stiles noticed was the smell of cooking meat, true to Erica’s words. Derek and Boyd were in the massive kitchen watching the TV from afar making small comments. The TV being large enough to see from that distance anyways. Danny also appeared to have moved to the bar.

“Danny why did you move?” Erica pretended to sound hurt.

“I got lonely, you know how far away I was from Derek over there?” He shot a teasing look to Derek who only rolled his eyes back. The running joke is to make fun of Derek for this massive house he has, even though everyone secretly loves it, and Derek secretly knows it. Derek directed his focus to Stiles while the others kept talking.

“Hey Stiles, you feeling better?” 

“Uh, yeah I think so, you just learn to deal with it, you know.” Stiles laughed softly and shot finger guns at Derek. And then immediately wished he could have a normal conversation. Derek however smiled for a brief second and shot a quick finger gun back. Which for the record, threw Stiles for a loop. 

“Woah there big guy put the guns away.” Stiles quirked and threw his hands up in mock surrender.

“Don't worry Stiles I still have my shirt on.” Derek shot back, which made Stiles laugh out in surprise and Erica shoot a grin towards Stiles.

“Oh wow i didn’t know  _ robots _ could tell jokes.” 

“Not very nice to call your supplier a robot Stiles.” Derek said. 

And while Stiles recognized the joke being made it also brought everything crashing right back down to him. That even if this whole Mark thing works out, Stiles literally has nothing to provide for him, while Derek in turn quite frankly has everything imaginable. It's just seems like at every turn Stiles was more and more unworthy of Derek’s presence. Derek noticed the shift in Stiles demeanor, and decided to shift the conversation.

“Uh.” He started out awkwardly. “You guys can go back to watching Nature Documentaries unless you want to listen to me and Boyd talk about science theories. Isaac and Cora should be back soon with more snacks.” Danny was already making his way back down to the huge couch.

“Ugh, you two are losers.” She shot her tongue out and gave a wink to show it was just jest and turned back around. “C’mon Stiles lets go pick out which animals are Harris.” and he followed, thankful for the quick interruption of his train of thoughts. 

They got back to the couch and proceeded to laugh about which animals were who, Calling out every form of canine that came on screen on Derek, and Derek eventually yelling at them to shut up. A shot of a rock falling of a cliff and Danny yelling that it was Jackson’s self-esteem made Stiles laugh for a solid minute. Him and Danny don't hang out much really but Stiles really does love having around. They did however get bored with calling out names and Erica eventually decided to switch to a Flip or Flop show and her and Danny proceeded to complain about all of the choices they would have done and the ones they agreed with. Stiles contently sat back and listened to them chatter. He felt his eyelids begin to droop. He figured in a controlled environment like this it was okay to take a little snooze. The central air hitting with a cooling breeze further coaxed his eyes to gently flutter shut. He opened up the ottoman and snagged a blanket and wrapped himself up. His eyes felt so heavy, it almost felt like an active battle to keep them open. He was so tempted, so so tempted to drift away in the serenity of the moment but the thought of him repeated last night was enough fuel to keep him going. Instead he decided that maybe he should work on contingency plans and prepare for the worst. God what would he even tell Derek in the moment, 

_ “sorry I never told you I just have a huge inferiority complex and I also feel like you secretly don't want me around.” _

_ _ or 

_ “I was planning on telling you but you’re my only outlet to get outside and be with the pack and I can’t ruin that”.  _

He was sure that those would go over smoothly. But what if Derek was disgusted at him for lying, disgusted that it  ** _was_ ** him? What if Derek already knew, and hated the idea so much he never moved forwards. This all could actually be a coup to keep Stiles around to study for them. Having the son of the sheri-- 

“Lime green?!” Erica’s shout of disgust shook him to the core. His mental sabotage brought to a halt. He glanced over at her and then to the screen to where he was sure she was referencing. He saw a couple deciding that lime green for their kitchen backsplash was the perfect way to go.

“That’s fucking horrid.” He muttered to himself in agreement, which earned a wide grin from Danny across the couch. 

Ok, ok. He was back, everything was calm again. He still felt a little uneasy but… Better. 

“Derek when is the food going to be ready?” He abruptly called across the space. Apparently feeling well enough to directly shout at Derek. But he kind of doesn’t remember the last time he ate and it's really starting to set in on him.

“Like thirty minutes.” Derek shouted back, “you think you’ll actually be able to survive that long?” 

“Mm probably not.” Boyd huffed a soft laugh at his response as they both turned their focus back to the stove.

Erica and Danny were still throwing comments at the TV in disgust, which is understandable. But Stiles decided to get up and go over to the bar, he wanted to be as close as possible to the food when it was done so he could scrounge up his share first. But he secretly just wanted to have an excuse to be closer to Derek. He walks up and takes the seat in the middle of the bar, Derek and Boyd were both focused on the food but he knew that they could tell he was in close proximity. Derek carefully put the pot of what looked to be the biggest portion of macaroni and cheese into the stove. His mouth salivated just a little bit looking at the thing, it was coated in fine powdery crust and spices. Amongst everything else they were moving around. Derek meticulously adjusted the dials on the oven and set the timer before turning to face him. Boyd following suit, apparently whatever little burst they had of prep was done temporarily

“That hungry that you couldn’t even wait?” Derek teased, rinsing his hands.

“Not going to lie, i'm kind of,” Stiles’ own stomach cut him off with a low rumble, causing to Derek to look at him with concern and intrigue. “Ok, I uh, i'm really hungry maybe.” He gave a Derek a timid smile. Derek put the towel he was drying his hands with and turned around, wiping the last bit of moisture on his apron. All he was wearing was a grey tank top and black tight jeans with that apron and luckily Stiles learned real fast how to control his libido around werewolves but… Fuck. The whole scenario of him looking hotter than ever while cooking a feast for the entire pack, was destroying is poor little heart. He wanted this, so so bad. Derek turned back with a small plate of assorted cooked vegetables, which by the way looked amazing. Derek seasons them just right to add an undertone of spice but to not take away from base flavor. He sets them down with a fork in front of Stiles. 

“Is this enough to sate your never ending stomach?” Derek quipped, looking almost bashful. The smell was activating like all of his salivary glands, holy he was so hungry. When  _ was _ the last time he's eaten, he thinks. He brings his mind back to Derek, hoping he didn't look like a fool who forgot how to talk.

“Oh yeah completely, it smells amazing and you seasoned it just how I like.” Earning a proud smirk from Derek. “Thanks Der.” He cooed,

“Yea-- I uh- “ Derek stammered, he could see the blush start to creep into his cheeks. “Of course I-” Derek was cut off by Erica coughing as loud as loud as she could. Stiles turned around to see what was going on but her focus was still on the TV, Danny’s hand over his face in embarrassment. Stiles could feel a blush of his own creeping up his throat. He turned back to acknowledge was Derek was saying but Derek was already turned around again back at the stove, his shoulders looking more tense than before. Stiles decided to brush the whole minute off and humbly eat his food because he was truly starving. Forking up the assortment of veggies in large heaps, shoveling them into his mouth. Not even caring if he filled himself up before the main meal. He was too hungry to care and he knew that there would still be food left for later in the evening. 

While he was eating rather fast he was slowly calming down more and more and beginning to relax into the situation. Slowing down his breathing and his heart rate and just letting himself mesh into the atmosphere. He checked his phone in between a fork of food;  **12:47 pm** , not bad, that means Scott would be here in about an hour or so. He would obviously stop home and see Melissa first. Having Scott here would definitely put him at ease, someone he can reside in if he started to feel anxious. He grabbed his fork, prepared to round up another pile of veggies when he heard multiple car doors clam shut from outside, stopping his fork mid air. Erica got up, giddy spread across her face. 

“Finally, they could not have taken longer. I'm going to go see if they need help, be right back.” She strolled right on out of the house and Stiles could hear chatter before the door closed again. 

Stiles felt… A little sick if he was being honest. Quite frankly he was getting fed up with this roller coaster of emotions he was strapped into. He wanted desperately to get off this ride but he couldn’t control his fluctuations in his mood, god would he love too. To just stop this self sabotage for a single night but his mental was stronger than him. Sweat started to form in his palms and forehead, the sickly clammy feeling of a cold spread through his body. He knew subconsciously that Cora was here. But, now she was really fucking here. The culmination of everything he’s been feeling mentally and physically was now at his doorsteps, and more accurately, at Derek's door steps. The door opened and his Stomach lurched. Isaac walked in first with two handfuls of bags followed by Erica, holding... nothing? Boyd gave her a confused look. 

“What?” Erica prodded.

“I thought you said you were going out to help.” He asked.

“A lady never dirties her hands. And they also said they had it handled. Isaac pretty much grabbed everything apparently.” Isaac gave a shy smile at the acknowledgement and went to go set the groceries down at the table to be sorted out and put away. 

Cora then walked in holding a couple bags followed by Lydia, which, was not really what he was expecting to happen. 

“Hey Derek I had Cora pick me up.” She stated simply as Cora went to go set her bags down with the fold. Derek huffed in response.

“Oh! Lydia I forgot my phone out in the Camaro come with me?” The question was more of a demand but he seriously doubted Lydia would’ve declined. He glanced at Cora as she walked back past him to the door, and they made direct eye contact. She gave him a half smile and patted his shoulder as she passed, and Stiles forgot how to swallow. His eyes followed her as she walked out, she turned and gave one glance towards Stiles as she opened the door, and directly turned back beginning to talk to Lydia. His veins went numb, the only thing he could feel was his jaw clenching from stress. This was a setup up, this was. It was something for sure, he knew it. He knew he should have stayed home. He was going to end up making a fool of himself no matter what happened tonight. 

“Stiles? Everything ok?” Derek asked once more. The look of earnest made everything surprisingly worse. He wanted nothing more than to just curl up in Derek's arm and cry from stress, and relief. And be the couple he fantasized about. Derek's concern was ill placed, he wanted Derek’s concern for his well being to come from a place of love, not from an Alpha over seeing his pack.

“I.” Stiles looked up at Derek, their eyes locking. Something, something was there. I should tell him right now, ask him to go talk quick. Get it over with, beat Cora to the punch before he’s found out against his will. He took in a breath. “Ca-- Uh can we go an-” He heard a loud laugh from lydia outside. He lost any confidence he had in a blink, looking away from Derek. “I think uh. Can I go and lay down down upstairs?” He tried to play it off like that was the question he intended to ask. 

Derek looked at him briefly, like he wasn’t going to accept the change in questions. And Stiles prepared for the worst.

“Yeah that's fine, You can go into my room so no one interrupts you.” And Stiles let go of the exhale wasn’t aware he was holding in. 

“Ok.” He was a little winded. “Y-yeah ok, thanks man. Don't worry i’ll be back down later.” He grabbed his phone and quickly headed to the large staircase at the far end of the living room, wanting to make it out of sight before Lydia and Cora made it back inside. The upstairs looped in a large rectangle, the two longer portions extending over the main floor creating a full loop. Stiles opted to take the longer path the Derek's room to avoid being potentially seen by them. At the top of the staircase was a walkway to the other end of the upstairs or a corridor that looped around the opposite direction. The hallway hugging the wall with a railing overlooking the backyard until the turn. The only thing on this end of the upstairs was the game room which filled up the entire space in between the end of the walkways. And a staircase to the garage below. He made his way around to the other walkway. He took this way because this walkway was directly overhead of the living room and kitchen and it was wide enough to where he knew they wouldn’t see him if they were directly below him talking at the island. Which he could hear that they in fact were.

He exhaled softly knowing that they wouldn’t see him but he faintly heard his name being mentioned and picked up the pace to Derek’s room. He got to the door after what seemed like the longest walk of his entire life. Which is saying a lot considering Finstock has made them run a grueling mile or two.

He crept inside of Derek's room, only being inside fully once before. And it was a lot larger than he remembers. The overwhelming scent of Derek flooded his nose. Fresh clothes, a little bit of earth, and aftershave. And suddenly, any apprehension soothed out of his body. He felt safe, protected here in this bedroom. He glanced around whilst he padded to Derek's King size bed. It was dimly lit in here, not helping that all of his large furniture in here was custom made out of onyx maple wood. All the accents like curtains and sheets were a rich maroon. While all the accessories and decal were a smokey grey tone. It was a little off putting but Stiles has to admit, it was making him extremely tired. He reaches the bed and for a moment, decides if this was something that he should be doing. Granted he got direct permission, but it felt like he was committing a crime of fraud. 

He pulled the covers back anyways and sank in, the room slowly massaging his anxiety out. The weight of the covers felt like a hug from a friend you didn’t know you had. And he was reminded of how this could be his reality if he wasn’t such a failure. His body sagged in the bed, the thought of imaging having Derek as his own to lay claim to. To be able to reside in and share tender moments similar to this. Filled him with grief. He felt his eyes pool with tears, threatening to fall. But he held them,  _ barely _ . Having Derek know he was fucking crying in his den of a bedroom was the absolute last thing he wanted. He curled to the side and cocooned himself as he let his eyes slowly shut. He let his mind race with possibility and dream. Of what could be, experience the complete luxury of living. Of  ** _being_ ** with Derek. Not so much a luxury in the commodity sense. It was no secret Derek had it fucking made after all. But more of the emotional luxury and comfort. He let a out broken sigh. Was fate holding his happiness hostage, or was he? His mind continued to race and he let it, he knew he didn’t have the strength to reel it in even if he  _ could  _ lasso it down. He instead decided to try and combat the storm by focusing on Derek’s room. He couldn’t place a single time frame where Derek has said to not go in his room but, who just wanders into someone's bedroom for the laugh of it. He could notice that there was a direct vent over the bed blowing cool air, coupled with this weighted blankets which not only provided a sense of security, but they were warm. It was a deadly combo to trying and stay awake too. The maroon accents allow the room to embrace darkness in a way that was meant for  _ l _ _ [ τάση ]l  _ . 

He yawned, feeling the pressure of his bladder disrupting the zen. He glanced around, knowing for a complete fact Derek had a bathroom connected somewhere. He gently threw the covers off and got out of the bed, not by choice. He knew it was only like somewhere around 1:00 pm but Derek’s room was  _ dark.  _ He decided to test his luck and clapped twice. He let out a surprised laugh when the room illuminated with light. God damn Derek this house really was amazing. He could clearly see a doorway that lead into tile and he assumed that could only mean one thing and that was bathroom. He made his way over and crept inside, not knowing what to expect. The stakes were high given the rest of the house but. He feels for the light near the entrances and finds it quick enough. Huh. Well, no not “huh” he takes that back, this bathroom was absolutely stunning, and gorgeous. But he guesses he definitely overestimated the size of what it would be. 

A lot of floating wood pieces backed with LED strips in a soothing white decorated the room. There was a lot to take in right off the bat but he really had to pee. He scurried over to the toilet and unzipped his pants, a quick one and two mission. He stood there, and. . . nothing? He was positive he had to pee, you can’t just active your nerves. He decided to wait a little long just in case, taking in the soft maroon floor mat beneath his feet. The toilet also was pretty fancy, not like, bidet touch screen or anything. But it was-- God Stiles stop fucking gawking at a bathroom.

He zipped his pants back up assuming his body was just not going to cooperate and turned back to go wash his hands. Since you know he did at least try and he's not an animal. Derek had a double basin sink with a massive mirror, also back lit. He washed his hands like any other time but he noticed the smell of Derek's soap was, magical? It smelt so good he honestly couldn’t believe Derek kept it up here all to himself. The center of the two sinks was a built in stand for the hand towels and Stiles dried off. He eyed himself up and down in the mirror, pulling up his sleeve. He strained his eyes and tried to focus- was. Was his mark? Oh my god why is my mark spinning, am I fatigued? I must be he thought. He turned the sink back on and splash a little water onto his face, looking back up at the mirror but. 

“What the fuck--” he froze. The mirror was solid black, no tangible reflection. He glanced around frantically. Did he break Derek’s mirror? Oh god he can’t have that over his head too. His eyes stopped, body following suit, and he zeroed in on the window. Taking slow and meticulous step, his heart rate beginning to rise. Reaching the window he peered outside. It was night time, with a drizzle? Broke Derek’s mirror after sleeping for at least 8 hours in his bed, great. Fantastic! He reached for his phone, what time was it anyways? 

** _[ ８８ :８８ ] _ **

“I.” Stiles squinted, confusion setting in, raw fear slowly invading his mind. He tried to focus but he couldn't make out a time. His jaw clenched in frustration, this was definitely not the worst thing he’s had to deal with but it was rapidly climbing the ladder. His phone buzzed, playing his batman ringtone. If anyone asked it definitely didn’t startle him. Nope, not one bit. He brought his attention back to his phone. It was a text from Jackson? That’s not on brand for him, and strangely coincidental. He doesn’t think they’ve talked since he moved but he opened the message anyways.

_Από τον Τζάκσον: _ _Σε παρακαλώ βοήθησέ με_

His heart was thumping now, hard. This doesn’t make sense, none of this makes sense. He looked back up, hoping for some sort of explanation overlooked. Fear instead clutched his heart with a steel grip. The- the walls?! The everything! It was all slowly dripping, melting down from the top down. Color and textures slowly cascading into each other. He’s never ran so hard in his life.

“DEREK!” He screamed, as loud as his lungs would allow while he sprinted out of the bathroom and to the door out. The bedroom was deteriorating too, but he didn’t have time to stop and examine. He ran to the door, fumbling with the knob for a second, yanking it open with desperation. Stiles launched himself into the hallway, ready to run. But He stopped, dead in his tracks. The heat of adrenaline not enough to stop his blood freezing still. At the far end of the hallway was the same massive beast, poised. He held his breath, forgetting how to breathe. And in an instant, it was sprinting at him. Stiles fell backwards in a panic. His body not knowing what to do. The hallway was long but it wasn’t long enough for Stiles to casually fall over and get back up in time. He turned quickly to Derek's room, hoping he could make it back in there in time. But as his eyes made contact with the location of where the door should be all he could see was wall. The thunder of four paws was getting closer at a dangerous rate. He snapped his head back down the hallway to meet his demise. 

  
  


“Stiles!” His lungs filled with air, expanding wider than he thought was possible. The deep breath was immediately followed by him frantically trying to breathe. Air not entering or leaving his body. He felt two hands softly clasp either side of his head.

“Stiles, breathe. Ok? Can you do that for me?” He recognized the voice but he couldn’t make out an image in his head. His choppy breathing getting worse. The hand on the right side of his head was removed and brought to his own. The hand lead his to a chest. Firmly holding it there.

“Stiles, please. Breathe with me ok? its alright.” He focused on the expanding and collapsing chest in front of him. “In. And out.” The shakiness of his body was lessening. “In, and out Stiles.” They repeated that for what felt like minutes. Until Stiles finally gained the ability to open his eyes. Making out Derek's figure right in front of him.

“Derek, I-I im s-so sorry, I didn-” 

“Shh” Derek pulled Stiles into a deep embrace, wrapping one arm around his shoulders and the other using his hand to plant Stiles head in the crook of Derek’s neck. “It’s ok Stiles, I- you really had me worried.” His heart ached at the words. “I heard you screaming my name but. I, I couldn’t wake you up and your breathing. It.” Derek's embrace tightened 

“D-does everyone else know?” He asked, deflecting the sentiment of what Derek said. If Derek managed to hear him the odds are everyone probably did. He could only handle so much embarrassment in such a short time frame. 

“No,” Relief washed over him. “The bedrooms are sound proofed, I was already on my way up to let you know the food was ready just in case.” He shamelessly buried his head deeper into Derek's neck. Breathing the scent in. 

Derek spoke again. “Stiles, you don’t have to but. Could you please tell me what happened? We’ve been through a lot and… This feels like back then.” And that last remark was the Achilles heel to this dilemma. Stiles took a deep inhale, he owed it to Derek to at least tell him.

“I’ve just been having nightmares lately.” He mumbled into Derek’s neck. “They aren’t this bad normally but. The one I just had and the one I had last night we’re both equally as terrifying, and they were connected.”

“What happened.” Derek prodded softly. A reassuring comfort in his voice, that he actually cared.

“Last night, I thought I heard something in your garage and went to go investigate, and a massive beast barreled across the floor and jumped at me, but you woke me up before it reached me.” he stalled, already playing back what just happened, losing his calm. “And- I- Your bathro- It was.” He fumbled his words, shortness of breath creeping back. Derek squeezed tight, adjusting them to that Stiles was sitting in Derek's lap, their legs wrapped around each other. 

“Its ok Stiles you don-”

“No!” He cut him off abruptly. “I mean. I- Want to tell you but, im still a little shaken.” He took another deep whiff of Derek, trying to steady himself. “I went to your bathroom but. But the mirror went black, and it- it was night time, and, and. The walls and ceiling started to melt, they were dripping down like that one famous painting I think. It's the only way I know how to explain it. And I ran out of your bedroom and that same beast was at the end of the hall. It sprinted at me and your door disappeared and it- but you woke me up right as it.” Stiles stopped before he worked himself up rambling. There was a lul, between both of them.

“Thank you.” Derek broke the silence.

“Wha- for what?” Stiles pulled away finally, looking at Derek. 

“For telling me, being brave to relive that. It sounds terrifying.” Stiles relished in this moment, his heart nearing collapse.

“Thanks for listening.” Was the only thing he could muster up without completely spilling everything. This whole thing had him complacent and he needed to dial it back. They sat again in silence for a couple minutes. 

“OH!” He shouted, visibly starling Derek. “Sorry, I uh. In the dream, I got a text from Jackson. But it was, in like Latin maybe? Roman? I couldn’t tell but I could still read it, in the dream anyways.” 

“What did it say?” Derek looked at him, he would have thought Derek might have found it funny that Jackson of all people texted him in this dream, but his expression was solid and inquisitive. 

“It uh.” Stiles paused. The sheer morbid implication of what the dream was trying to relay was setting in. Never before had he felt a sudden urge to find and protect Jackson, to keep him close, making sure he was still tangible. Flukes and silly dreams, to consider this so. Would be spitting in the face of destiny. He looked up, eyes meeting Derek's. “It said  _ ‘Please help me’ _ .” 

**┈ ┈ ┈ ⋞ 〈 την κατάρα των Μοιραι** **〉 ⋟ ┈ ┈ ┈ **

  
  


Stiles waited, for any kind of reassurance or even a response. Something. They were sitting on the bed a little ways apart now, the tension resurfacing almost immediately. Like they committed a secret affection crime and tried to remedy it by acting nonchalant and unaware of the  _ very _ close distant they just shared. His mouth felt dry, and breathing felt like intrusion of space. He tried to relish in this small victory he had but the reward seemed to be being put two steps back. His nerves end up getting the better of him and he breaks.

“Derek? Is something wrong?” The question was soft but the way Derek snapped his head he would’ve thought he punched him.

“No. --no. I’m just texting Boyd to move all of the food outside and to have everyone go out there for a little while.” Derek continued typing for a brief moment, before resuming his thought. “Something about all of this feels connected, I want Lydia to come down to the library with us and see if we can get some kind of start.” 

Huh. That was a surprisingly fast course of action, and… Reasonable. He didn’t think Derek would full stop to start investigating. Stiles however forgot that Derek had a supernatural database beneath his garage. Which meant that if they couldn’t find answers down there, then they were probably fucked. Derek got up from the bed, Stiles assuming that was his cue to do the same, and followed him to the door. 

“Wait! Hold on, let me go and check something quick.” Stiles did a quick pivot back and quickly made his way to the bathroom. It was in the same spot. He walked in, not knowing what to expect but being completely shocked regardless. It was all the same? From the dream, every detail and every piece were exactly were they were, right down the color of everything. Bile weighed heavy in his stomach, his throat beginning to close. The taste of potential vomit brewing in his mouth. He left the bathroom with haste, heading right back to Derek's side. He waited, one eyebrow raised.

“It’s the same, everything is the same in there Derek.” 

“I mean I would hope so I haven--”

“No. from the dream Derek.” Derek closed his mouth, realizing the implication of the words. “I’ve. I’ve only been in to your room once before this, and never in to your bathroom, how is it possible that I would kn-”

“Know what it looks like.” Derek finished off the sentence with Stiles, placing down the puzzle pieces together. “This is progressively getting weirder.” Derek didn’t stay for any more verbal agreement or statements, and left out the door. They wasted no time walking the halls to the stairs, heading down and going straight to the kitchen where Lydia waited. Stiles could see everyone outside chilling on the patio near the pool. He noticed Scott was here now too. It's not like Derek didn’t have windows up to the ceiling practically. But none of them looked back, so he could only assume that Derek told them to give him space. To clear and area and not damage his fragility any further. The close contact and the protective manor Derek just did was nice. The nicest thing to happen to Stiles since he found  _ out _ Derek sparred his matching mark. But the events came crashing down on him in a flash of shame. Derek only went up there to tell Stiles the food was ready. It was his duty and nature as an Alpha to look over the pack. Forcing Derek into brief trauma therapy for his sake. Up-heaving the full moon pack night because of him.  _ Way to go Stiles, i'm sure that will really convince Derek you’re a strong suitable match.  _ A snap of the fingers brought him out of it as he whipped up to the sound. Lydia was staring directly at him, in unison with Derek. 

“Wow, I think you down played it a little bit, this looks  _ worse _ .” She eyed him down quick. “Here, I had Boyd make you a smoothie, I feel like we’re going to be down there for awhile.” She turned and started walking to the garage. Her presence demanding to follow. Stiles grabbed the smoothie and walked, following them to the far end of the garage. Pacing carefully, keeping his eyes directly on the middle of Derek's back. He refused to look anywhere else not wanted to trigger some form of flashback in the garage. Lydia opened the door and they descended down. It’s been a while since he’s been down here, usually only needed for when the local monster of the week was needing to be identified. He felt at home already ready as he traversed down the steps, even though he knew the reason for this expedition was explicitly because of him. 

The library smelled like collectible books. The aroma only a mass collection of aged paper could produce. It was truly the only was he could explain it. A little magic and wild energy thrumming through the room too he supposed. But Derek made it a priority to not let it start to smell like rotting book or weird leather, everything was cleaned and refurbished at one point or another before coming down here. 

The library was a large rectangle that stretch the same width and length of the garage basically. With about a fifteen foot height clearance (Stiles only went down there when absolutely necessary because that was a lot of damn stairs.) Books encircled the entire room from floor to ceiling. There was a rich plush maroon carpet that covered the floor of the room, maroon was Derek's color no doubt. All of the book shelving were in the wall, with a thick color divider in between various segments. A stretch of book shelving a deep forest green divider to indicate herbs and spices books, spell mixing diagrams. While another divider was a faded pink documenting everything they might need about pack relations and general wolf and human psychology. This wrapped the entire outer wall in a soft rainbow of sorts, for organization. With each chunk alphabetized and open with extra space for the need to ever add more useful documents or literature. The center of the room dipped down two steps with a large oak table in the middle. 

It's been a little while since he’s been down here but that table sparks a plethora of memories of when this town was at its worst. He once spent two full days studying and researching down here, sleeping a total of 20 minutes through out the entire 48 hours.

“OK, before we start we need to sit down.” Lydia chimed, as if she was reading his very thoughts. “And you,” She pointed right at him. “Need to tell us _ everything, _ that is going on because this does not seem like a cute little coincidence.”

“So... uh, when you say _ everythi _ -”

“ ** _Everything_ ** ” she interjected,  _ she knew _ . He could feel it, his palms begin to dampen already, trying his hardest to ignore Derek's presence. They all took a seat, Stiles on one side and Derek and Lydia on the other. Both of them looked at him, Derek with inquisition and Lydia with a little more impatience. He just sat there, not knowing what was expected of him to say. His gut felt weak, he was being pseudo cornered into exposing his mark by Lydia Martin and also Fate itself apparently. 

“Stiles! Focus!” Lydia looked at him like he was on the brink of spilling all of the answers.

“I- What am I supposed to say?! This is still pretty new to me too!” His hands flailing about in defense.

“In order for us to start somewhere we need a lead. Tell me about your dreams first.” She paused. “We have no idea if there is a superimposed time limit on your situation, or if its even safe for you to sleep anymore.” 

“What?!” Stiles squeaked, “That's a little dram-” 

“Dreams, Stiles.” He looked over to Derek who offered no reprise in the scenario, he was trapped.

So he told her. Went into detail feeling a little awkward considering Derek was just debriefed on the whole story of it, but Lydia seemed focused on the details so he continued. He tried his hardest to describe the beast but he couldn’t bring himself to go to far into detail and regardless he was already forgetting the fine outline of what it looked like. He told her about the melting walls, and how Derek woke him up both times from the dream right as he was about to get mauled. 

“So the same beast appeared in back to back dreams?” Lydia asked.

“Yeah, it uh looked the same in both, same intentions too.” 

“And both times Derek woke you up?” Stiles nodded his head in response. 

“It also sounds like your dreams take place in the same exact spot you fall asleep.” Derek chimed in. Stiles pondered the statement, they did. And both scenarios felt like continuations of what he was already doing, he doesn’t remember falling asleep in either.

“It almost sounds like a curse. Stiles before you fell asleep both times were you by chance thinking abou-.” 

“Curse!” Stiles shouted. “Lydia you’re so smart, let's start looking for things about sleep curses and black beasts, I'll get the bestiary.” He got up immediately, ignoring Lydia’s glare and Derek’s confused demeanor, and headed to the ash colored segment were all of the main bestiaries and encyclopedias were.

He knew Lydia was going to bring up the fact he’s been in a bout of depression (three years worth if you ask him) over his mark and that that could be the catalyst. Which is very true and very likely but, he couldn’t. His body felt electric with nerves, he wasn’t mentally prepared for this. He knew he put it off long enough, but know it feels like he put it off too long and Derek probably would loathe him even more if he found out about it. He multi tasked having a nervous breakdown while searching for a quadruped based bestiary. He could hear them across the library over in the violet section, nearing the middle of the far end. The violet segment was were they had all things religious and spiritual, not limited to supernatural. If this was a curse he had no idea how he would even begin to look. The only lead they had was it had direct correlation with sleep. 

He found a picture encyclopedia on north american quadrupeds and grabbed Derek's spare laptop from under the charging station near the stairs. Derek was coerced into getting one to make research easier, the compromise is that  _ “It only stays in the library, got it?”  _ which was fair. He headed back to the table and picked up his smoothie he completely forgot about. He was thirsty and still had nervous jitters but he was starting to enter a work trance. Like the good ole’ days of everything thing going wrong a measly once per week. He sat down and opened the laptop and went to work. He was only focused on looking for something that was solid black and large, so he filtered out all things with color as he skimmed the book. He absentmindedly heard the other two sit down with books of their own.

“Any ideas Stiles?” Derek asks

“Mm, i'm just trying to see if I can identify the thing that was in my dreams, I think that could lead into more clues.” Derek hummed in agreement and went to his own readings.

Stiles couldn’t seem to find anything that fit the description, It almost looked like an Alpha but the thing in his dreams didn’t have enough matching characteristics. All images of this beast in his head were clear but its body brought a black smoke with it. 

They sat there for what felt like hours,  _ only thirty three minutes according to the laptop,  _ and they still had nothing. He supposes that they wouldn’t just crack the case immediately but for them to have not a single lead by now? All the curses about dreams we’re too vague and involved nothing about strictly tying in with black beasts. And no beast matched his descriptions. 

“Stiles.” Lydia sounded defeated. “Is there anything else important that happened in the dream?” He thought for a second but he covered all the bases he could’ve. He sat there with a blank face.

“No, I think that was all of it.”

“Didn’t you say you got a text from Jackson?” Derek asked. In the grand scheme of things that didn’t seem like a detail that could provide any insight. But Lydia’s face proved otherwise.

“Stiles?! A text?!” Lydia sounded annoyed, her mood shifting rapidly. Like the text was the secret code. “From Jackson?!”

“Lydia it was just a small part of the dream, it only happened onc--”

“What. Did. It say.” 

“It just, it just said  _ ‘please help me.’ _ but nothing else happened” He didn’t think it was possible for Lydia to look more annoyed and intrigued. She was about to open her mouth but Derek cut her off.

“Didn’t you say it was in like roman or something?”

“Stiles!” 

“What!? Stop yelling at me!” This was starting to feel like a group intervention rather than help.

“How did you fail to mention you got a text in a foreign language you could still read?” She asked

“It didn’t seem like a major thing! It didn’t threaten my life!” Stiles was getting defensive, so what he left out some stupid text about Jackson? It's not like Jackson liked him anyways, he didn’t want anything to try and make him feel sorry for Jackson. That’s not going too well thought quite frankly.

“What language Stiles?” Lydia demanded.

“I don't know! Jeez!” He flung his hands to face, rubbing his eyes. Stiles was trying to not get upset but this was starting to feel like it was being pinned as entirely his fault, he doesn’t even know what's going on, that's why they’re down here. He could feel his jaw clenching by instinct, feeling like she was backing him into a corner. 

“Ok. Ok... Let’s just,” She thought quickly. “Pull up chart of foreign alphabets, we’ll try and go down the row and pick off the ones until we find a match. Derek mentioned Roman?” Derek nodded and Stiles responded.

“The text was in a language that had familiar looking symbols but I can’t place a finger on it.” But he pulled up alphabets anyways, it was on the tip of his tongue. None of these looked right but he was rapidly crossing language after language off his mental list.

Stiles uncontrollably yelps in pain, bringing his hand to his head. His vision suddenly blurring hot and white. His skull pounding with each beat of his heart. He feels a hand on his shoulder but he can’t hear anything, this pain was excruciating especially considering it came out of nowhere. He clenches and un clenches his fists desperately hoping for relief.

Letters keep floating in his head, dancing just barely tangible… Of that language!  He’s making out random letters here and there, trying to focus on the intangible symbols with blinding pain. He quickly pulls out a pen and paper from the slide out drawers beneath the table, not wanting to waste this moment. He starts scribbling onto the paper, one hand still gripping his temple, tracing the images in his head due to the fact that his eyes are still clamped shut.

  
  


** _Τ ο Σ υ μ π ό σ ι ο_ **

The blinding pain in his head subsides as he scribbled out the last letter, and he exhales in pain and relief. Slowly getting back to his senses. He breathes deep and slow, regaining his inner balance, before opening his eyes. Derek's hand was perched on his shoulder, but he glances back only to find both of them looking directly at the paper.

“Stiles. What is that?” Lydia asks, caution in her voice.

“I saw the symbols floating in my mind, I. I wrote them down while I could.” 

“It’s Greek.” Derek said.

And then without warning, Lydia let out a piercing shriek into the room. Derek and Stiles both covering their ears in shock, Stiles' fresh headache flaring back. It was only a brief intermission, but enough to exhaust her. She fell to her knees, Derek quickly at her aide. She was breathing heaving now too. 

“Two in one huh.” Stiles quirked trying to diffuse tension, his mouth working faster than his brain. He earned a quick glare from Derek. 

“Lydia what was it.” Derek questioned, his voice no longer carrying a light tone.

She looks up, directly at Stiles, eyes blown wide.

“Stiles… Pull up your sleeves.” Lydia said, out of breath.

He freezes, he almost forgot amidst the studying and sudden fainting party. But now he was suddenly face to face with an ultimatum from left field. Show Derek, or have it be heavily implied he’s involved. His face felt slick, and he was getting clammy at an alarming rate. His stomach threatening to spill all of his smoothie. 

How? How could she have known, can a banshee see marks in a vision? Was he going to die? Oh god, he was going to die. 

“Stiles if you don’t pull up your sleeves _ i’ll do it myself _ .” He feels like he’s on a tightrope above a ravine of raging waters.

“I.” His voice cracked, and he could feel his throat start to close up. “Only if you tell me how you knew.” She rolled her eyes and huffed with slight annoyance. Urgency still in her face.

“Me and Cora dared each other to reveal one of our biggest secrets one night years ago, and turns out we had pretty similar ones.” He couldn’t believe it, in the back of his mind he always figured Cora might tell Derek but he never thought she actually would. But to tell Lydia of all people? Who else knows? He felt naked and exposed, weak and puny, this whole time walking around guarding his most heavily protected secret only for it to actually be known all along. Like a worthless fool, playing a game of charades by himself.

“What is going on? What, are you two hiding.” Derek was starting to lose his patience, Stiles looked to Lydia not wanting to meet Derek’s eyes. Lydia let out a sharp huff.

“Lydia, I… I can’t” Stiles’ voice was shaky, it felt like being in the front cart on the top of a roller coaster.

“Stiles, he needs to know.” Her voice was softer, with understanding. “This is, this could be bad.”

He took a deep breath and tried to steady himself. With his hands trembling, he moved to take off his button up, fingers stumbling with every single button. This was the culmination of all of his self loathing and doubt. The past three and a half years of anguish and wishing he could be braver, stronger,  _ worthy.  _ They were sitting in unison before him, mocking him. The infinite weight of his largest secret just became present on top of his shoulders in the blink of an eye. It felt like he was going to collapse beneath the immense pressure. He took his hand and reached for the cuff of his shirt. Truthfully he felt took weak to even pull it up but he had no choice. In one swift motion he pulled his sleeve up, bunching the fabric to sit on his shoulder. It was immediately followed by two soft gasps.

He was bare, it felt like he was exposing every single lie and truth to Derek. But he still refused to look at him, he put it off for as long as possible, part of him  _ did _ intend to take this to the grave. 

None of the three were breathing, Stiles forgot how to. He peeked a glance at Derek, And it was  Déjà vu all over again. He had the same exact expression that Cora had when she saw it in the clearing. Lydia too, was a little surprised. Stiles looked down, the floor was his only friend in this scenario. He could feel his jaw begin to hurt from nervously clenching it.

“Stiles…” Derek broke the silence. His voice hushed. “Why…”

Stiles choked a little in surprise, his eyes watering. This whole time, his worst fear was coming true, that Derek did not like the idea of sharing his mark. His knees felt weak and he didn’t know what to do. He knew that no matter what he said next he was going to cry.

“-m sorry.” was all he could muster up, his voice wet and groggy already. His eyes were misting over and all he wanted was to go home, to hole up in his room and drift away into dust. He couldn’t even dare look up anymore. He knew. Stiles knew that Derek was too good for him, nothing Stiles did was ever good enough, someone in the pack could always do it better than him. He was ready to b-line it to the stairs, he didn’t even care about the curse anymore. 

But then he felt the strong embrace of Derek’s arms, grounding him. Stiles melted into it, using Derek as his source of stability, fearing his was about to pass out.

“Don’t be sorry Stiles.” Derek said firmly, squeezing a little harder. “I’m… I had a feeling. I’m not disappointed ok? It’s ok.” Derek whispered into Stiles hair. And just like that a sob ripped out of him, relief and surprise on top of all the emotions he was feeling coaxing the tears. He buried his head further into Derek’s chest.

“I- I didn't. I wanted. You were- but. And Ka-.” He mumbled frantically into Derek’s shirt, unable to form any coherent sentences. Derek just rubbed his back, shushing him.

“It’s ok Stiles, I promise. It's ok but- it's just that, your mark. Why did you…” Derek trailed off.

Stiles was a little confused now, he reluctantly pulled away from Derek, wiping his eyes with his still shaky hands. Why did he what? The context didn’t make any sense. He gathered himself a little, and tentatively glanced towards his mark.

Stiles shrieked in confusion and shock, he didn't have the focus to be embarrassed by his high pitch. His hand ghosting over his bicep. He looked to Lydia who was still looking at him with an incredulous expression

“This isn’t what it looks like, I… I don't understand!” Stiles uttered out, voice still wobbly. It was painless, but through the center of his mark was a prominent gash, and it looked new. “I didn’t do that, I- I-... I just checked it this morning and it was fine and I don't even feel any pain from- ah!” Stiles hissed as he touched his mark mid sentence, ok maybe it did hurt a little after all. But it still doesn’t make any sense as to where it came from or how.

“ Stiles, you didn’t. Do that?” Lydia asked carefully.

“No! Of course not, I mean I've thought about it but I… I could never actually.” He drifted off, noticing the saddened change in Derek’s expression. Stiles mentally berated himself, not the kind of thing to tell someone who just found out they were you match.

“But it didn’t hurt, like you didn’t feel it happen?” She asked again

“No, I don't remember a single time today where it might have happened, for the most part I've been fine all- Earlier!” Stiles cut himself off. “At the table, when I. That pain from the vision! It's the only thing that would make sense.” He ruled it as fact, there was no other time today that he even felt any kind of pain, he probably didn’t feel it over the explosion in head.

“You think it happened while you were seeing those letters a little bit ago?” Derek asked this time.

“Yeah it, that would’ve been the only time it could’ve happened.” but... “But there’s no blood, just a newly healed scar.” Stiles mind was starting to work over time. They never had a chance to look at what the letter he wrote down meant, only that Derek knew they were Greek. He walked back over the table, ignoring everything else. Derek following him back, while Lydia was still on the opposite side. 

“I think you were right Lydia.” Lydia opened her mouth to say something but Stiles kept going. “Like really right, This, whatever ** _ this _ ** is. That is happening right now, is definitely a curse. We never got to examine the letters I wrote down. It could be everything, or nothing. My money on the latter.” Stiles rambled on while trying to figure out how to reverse translate from a language you don't know. He pulled up a Greek alphabet chart and decided to just match.

He frantically started scribbling everything together

** _Τ _ ** _ tau _

** _ο _ ** _ omikron _

He typed it into a translator, hoping it meant something. 

“The” he read aloud with the screen, ok. It’s a start he guesses, doesn’t really explain much but, he continues. Derek with his thumb at his lip watching, while Lydia contemplates interrupting with what she was going to say.

  
  


** _Σ _ ** _ sigma _

** _υ _ ** _ upsilon _

** _μ _ ** _ mu _

** _π _ ** _ pi _

** _ό _ ** _ omikron _

** _σ _ ** _ sigma _

** _ι _ ** _ iota _

** _ο _ ** _ omikron _

He hit enter, hoping that this was right, and… ‘Symposium’

“The Symposium” He absent mindedly said aloud, putting them together easily enough.

“But that doesn’t explain anything.” Lydia and Derek said in unison. 

Stiles acknowledge their comments subconsciously but kept looking deeper, looking up what _ ‘The Symposium’  _ was. He entered the phrase as a whole.

“Oh no…” Stiles announced ominously.

“What?!” Lydia asked, her patience understandable wearing thin.

“It’s a text. The Symposium is a philosophical text.” Stiles answered back, resolving none of the questions.

“Ok, and? That doesn’t answer anything.” Lydia said. 

“It’s a philosophical text by freaking Plato! 350 BC. Oh man, oh man.” They got an answer, but it only seemed to make things more complicated. “There is  ** _nothing _ ** good that could come from seeing the title of a two thousand year old piece of literature, oh god Derek I’m going to die.” Fear, apprehension, nausea, relief, confusion, shame, stress, fear again, it’s just to many powerful emotions to feel in one single day for his vulnerable little mind.

“Stiles, relax. You’re not going to die.” Derek reassured with loose conviction. “And we also have a lead, what is the text about?” 

“Uh…” Stiles started to skim the premise of the text, noting it was an assortment of speeches of other notable Greek philosophers in one single unit. He reads off the first descriptive passage about it.

“So it um, it says; _ ‘It depicts a friendly contest of extemporaneous speeches given by a group of notable men attending a banquet.’ _ That- hmm. doesn’t really answer any questions though.” he continues to read the synopsis of it. Trying to find some sort of answer. Seven different speeches given. Socrates was one of them? That still isn’t useful. He stumbles upon footnote discussing how, oh. That’s interesting.

“It also says that;  _ ‘ _ _ The speeches revolve around same-sex love, specifically pederastic relationships between adult and adolescent males.’  _ I uh.” He pauses, not really understanding the statement before reading it aloud. Lydia was cocking an eyebrow, looking directly at Derek. While Derek was completely red in the face.

“Wha- I. I just found out 20 minutes ago!” Derek stammered trying to defend himself, his voice cracking just a little bit with embarrassment, Stiles thought it was cute. “Besides we’re both legal and-” 

“Derek i'm just teasing you.” Lydia cut him off. “Besides that was ancient Greece, things were a little uh, different... Anything else Stiles?"

“Hmm,” He paused, still searching through the page. “Oh. there’s a link to notable quotes from the excerpt.” He took a moment to go to the link, pausing to read the most popular one quick before reading it off.

“The most popular quote says;  _ ‘According to Greek mythology, humans were originally created with four arms, four legs and a head with two faces. Fearing their power, Zeus split them into two separate parts, condemning them to spend their lives in search of their other halves.’ _ ” Lydia was about to interject again with something but Stiles kept reading, the next quote a continuation of the first.

“Then it says; ‘ _ and when one of them meets the other half, the actual half of himself, whether he be a lover of youth or a lover of another sort, the pair are lost in amazement of love and friendship and intimacy and one will not be out of the other's sight, as I may say, even for a moment…’”  _ Stiles looked to Derek, who was looking at him, he felt butterflies, secretly hoping Derek did too. 

“No.” Lydia interjected, the two boys looking at her in confusion. She didn’t look back at them, she kept her gaze on the table deep in thought. “That. That can’t be right if...” She continued thinking out loud.

“Lydia, I don’t understand?” Derek asked. She stood there for a second, trying to finalize her thought process before she looked back to him. Her eyebrows knit with confusion still.

“But what if there were three?”

_ |  _ _ ["Τι γίνεται όμως αν υπήρχαν τρεις;"] | _

“Three? Three what Lydia? Like in a match?” Stiles was confused, and more and more information kept piling up rapidly. Three people in a match? It took him fucking years to tell his first one! How the hell was he supposed to hold is own with someone else in the fold? “That's what you meant right? Lyds?” Stiles was hoping so desperately it wasn’t. This entire day was proof that he should not even have a match made, let alone two.

“Yes. There’s.” She paused, looking apprehensive about what she was going to say next. “Listen i wasn’t going to but… Given the recent circumstances. I, need to tell you something about Ja-”

“ckson’s here” Derek said, simultaneously with Lydia. He was looking down at his phone, currently not, he sounded gruff suddenly, his semi playful attitude turned aloof. paying attention to what was going on with Him and Lydia. Stiles whipped his head to look at Derek, hoping this was some kind of new found match made prank. But Derek didn’t even look back, Lydia pursed her lips. 

“Boyd just texted me, said he sensed him pull up.” 

“Ha, so it. So it could mean he’s not actually here… Right?” He trailed off, Lydia was staring daggers into him and Derek was already making his way to the stairs, ignoring the joke. He had no other choice but to follow. Lydia right behind him. They made their way up the endless staircase before trekking across the garage, Derek slowing down only slightly so they could catch up.

“Derek is he.” Lydia said. “Yes.” He responded immediately, “At the door.”

Stiles didn’t know how he felt about this, It would only make sense that the most annoying person would show up mere hours after he told Derek he was his match. Only Jackson would show up while they were in the middle of an important supernatural investigation unannounced. His nerves were riling up. He thought his animosity dissipated but now he wasn’t so sure. Despite being timid and nauseous all day, he swears. If Jackson makes one single comment about him and Derek he’s not holding back.

They reached the door, Derek extending his arm for the handle, but paused momentarily, as if unsure how to handle this unexpected arrival. Not sure if he was ready for what was on the other side. Jackson never left the pack per say but a guy can’t freaking send a text that he's on his way from London? Lydia looked equally as apprehensive. 

Derek opened the door. Revealing the boy in question.

“Jackson, you can’t at lea-” Derek stopped as soon as he started, rightfully so. Even Stiles was a little taken back. Jackson looked  _ rough _ , it was almost sad to look at. He was lanky, almost like Stiles was a few years ago, his clothed barely fitting him. His skin was paler than he remembered and. And his eyes, they were... they were droopy and red, and he had sunken bags. It looked like he hasn’t slept in months, Stiles felt a twinge of regret for being so ready to tear him down 

“Derek, i’m…” Jackson said, slurring his letters. Further proof his was malnourished and sleep deprived. But he only got out those two words before promptly fainting and collapsing forwards. Derek caught his limp body as carefully as he could given the sudden occurrence of it, refusing to let him hit the floor. Derek tried to recenter Jackson upwards but he was out cold, still slumped against him. 

“Jesus Jackson what happened to you…” Derek asked himself. Stiles didn’t want to admit it but, the excursion that just happened had him legitimately worried for Jackson. He looked over to Lydia for solace but she was anxiously biting her fingers for the first time he’d ever seen. 

“We need to call Deaton now.” She said tightly. He and Derek both hummed in agreement.

  
  


**┈ ┈ ┈ ⋞ 〈 ⏣ 〉 ⋟ ┈ ┈ ┈**


	2. Η μάχη

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Listen i just want to say if you're still reading this i love you to the moon and back. I've been really struggling with writing and kind of lost inspiration for this story but im still trying just to get it finished. This is a little insert right after Jackson shows up. But i wanted to get some kind of update to prove im alive and i've been slowly adding word after word by the days. I hope that this is enough of an addition <3

They had moved him to the main living room couch almost immediately after he passed out. Stiles called Deaton while they maneuvered through the house in a frenzy, despite the massive open space Stiles was still fumbling into things and losing his balance a little. He didn’t think that he cared for Jackson, but watching the other man pass out, plummeting towards the hard floor puts a person on edge regardless. He told Deaton the run down of the scenario, as briefly as he could. Hearing Deaton scrambling around through paperwork, giving instructions to lay Jackson down and that neither he nor Derek were allowed to leave the area under any circumstances. The call ended before Stiles could ask any questions.

He didn’t bother trying to run down the already short phone call, he knew Derek heard everything and his brain was starting to hurt from all the events that continued to happen. He walked over to the love seat, intent on sitting down to try and calm down, and to follow what Deaton said about proximity. But he heard the sliding of the glass door across its tracks and an ensemble of voices filtered in. Stiles almost forgot the rest of the pack was here, and completely forgot that this was a pack night that he derailed so they could play detectives for his benefit. But there was no time to dwell on that as almost instantly the questions started pouring in. 

“Jacksons back?” Erica asked, her and Boyd walking over to the couch where Derek was standing watch of said person.

“Jacksons back…” He heard Cora say, incredulous. She went straight over to Lydia, not even glancing once to see if Jackson was ok. Stiles mouth was slack, did she not care? He felt a pang of anger over her disinterest and began to anxiously bounce his leg as he continued to watch them walk back over to the back door to continue talking. Both of them exchanging hushed whispers about the scenario. Was gossiping about Jackson more important than tending to him? Erica nudged Boyd to signal she was leaving and she went to follow the two girls back outside. Leaving again as fast as they came in.

Scott came over to him and sat down, a concerned look spread across his face.

“Bro, is everything ok? Does this have to do with why you guys went downstairs?” Scott asked

“No I- uh. It doesn’t. I don't know. And i'm fine yeah don't worry about it ok, it’s just. nothing.” He shot Scott his best fake smile. Noticing Derek’s jaw twitch at the comment.

He just couldn’t catch a break today. His already false smile coming undone. 

“Ok, you know you can come to me with any problems.” Scott squeezed his knee and got up to walk over to the kitchen where the rest of the pack was congregated.

Stiles pondered the statement, knowing Scott meant well. But how was he supposed to tell his friend if he couldn’t even face it himself. He sat there and spaced out getting lost in thought. Trying to truly process the last couple of hours. Monster after monster and coup after betrayal. Stiles still was never ready for the next issue that came to their front door. And this one seemed to directly affect him in more ways than one. 

Stiles glanced back to the glass door from his seat to get any kind of indication of what they were talking about but the three girls were still walking off further down the sidewalk. He guesses whatever they need to talk about was top secret, probably about him, which was not making him feel any better.

There was a knock on the front door, Stiles whipped his head back to the other side of the house, immediately presuming it was Deaton given that everyone else was already here. Stiles also was very concerned at how fast Deaton got here. But his perception of time has been warped all day. Derek went to go answer the door but Deaton simply let himself directly after his knocks in mumbling something about ingredients and “i was only knocking to be polite”. He walked straight to where Jackson still lay unconscious, setting down his equipment next to the couch on the floor. Not waiting for things to be explained. Deaton apparently sensed the urgency more than any other werewolf could. 

Deaton was pulling out tools and viles left and right, not taking any time to look or acknowledge anyone else. He instead went straight to work while beginning to ask questions.

“When was the last time anyone spoke with Jackson?” Deaton opened. Quite the hard hitting question to start with. Stiles merely looked around at everyone else not wanting to talk nor answer. He knew himself, that the last time he talked to Jackson was probably around the summer of their senior year. Roughly three years ago? Stiles knew and could remember that Jackson doing a 180 and moving to London was better than any present he received from graduation. Which honestly wasn’t much more than $20 bills from family members few and far between. That overzealous douchebag out of his life and half the world away made him ecstatic. He remembers hearing about the news. Stiles really wanted to go to the airport to see him off and tell him that he hopes his plane crashes. But one victory at a time was enough for him. Now though? Stiles can’t find any of those emotions in his mind. Looking down at Jackson’s lifeless body on the couch, he doesn’t know why he wished those things to happen. 

“I message him from time to time to check up on him, but it’s been a couple months.” Derek looked down sheepishly, answering Deaton. “The only one who has probably kept up contact with him is Lydia.”

“Ah. So none of you know how long he’s been like this then?” Deaton inquired, while doing a simple vitals check. Snaking the stethoscope down the collar of his t-shirt to get a heart read. Jackson currently lay limp on the couch the rustling seemingly not effecting him at all.

“I uh.” Derek murmured, looking even more bashful “No i had no idea this was going on until he literally showed up at my doorstep.”

“And he didn’t tell you he was coming.” Deaton kept on asking, removing the stethoscope from Jackson's person, and putting them down, moving on to examine both of his lifeless wrists.

“I never got a text or a call.”

“I see, is Lydia here?” He was rotating Jackon’s left wrist examining the veins. 

Stiles sat and watched as this was all unfolding, each second that passed made him more uncomfortable, the sequence of events that have happened in the last several hours have been very taxing on him, and while more and more strings and pins keep being presented. Stiles still can’t seem to connect any useful dots. He gently brought his fingers up to his mark, massaging slowly over the area out of nervousness. Trying to map out the ridges of the scar that had mysteriously formed in the basement. Stiles slumped back a little farther into the chair, wanting this day to be over. giving a cautious glance towards Derek. Derek was looking at Deaton but looked over to him, seeing Stiles move with his peripheral. Stiles shot his eyes back down to the couch where Jackon and Deaton were. Not wanting to confront what happened in the basement. Derek’s jaw hardened and he pursed his lips at the interaction, his eyebrows furrowing as he looked down. 

“Lydia went outside with Erica and Cora” Boyd chimed in from over at the island, Stiles forgetting that others were still with them in the house. Derek turned around briefly to silently acknowledge the information, while Scott let out a quiet “mhm” in agreement. 

“Can you go and get her please?” Deaton said, a demand rather than a question.

Boyd nodded his head and began to make his way to the door. Stiles' eyes followed Boyd for a little bit but after he got a certain distance he again put his focus back on Jackson. Instead using sliding and closing of the glass door as a cue that Boyd went outside. Stiles blinked slowly with heavy eyes, examining Deatons makeshift bag of tools. Trying to make out what all these vials and books could be for.

Stiles clapped his hands against his cheeks trying to jolt himself alert. ‘Whatever it takes, I'm not falling back asleep until this is sorted out’. He thought to himself. His track record of sleeping these past few days have been. Horrendous to say the least. And on top of that this was not the scenario to doze off at, if this progresses worse he needs to be ready to help.

He tried to distract himself by watching closely to what Deaton was doing. Just to get his mind off things. His eyes narrow in confusion as he watches Deaton reach into his bag and pull the stethoscope back out. Did he miss something? Did he need another pulse check? Stiles watched as Deaton took the stethoscope and snaked it under the collar of Jackson T-Shirt. 

“Uh Deaton?” Stiles rasped out, his voice a little hoarse from being silent for so long now. “Why are you doing that again?” 

Stiles looked at Deatons back expecting an answer, but Deaton did not even budge a muscle and kept going. Stiles started bouncing his leg as he brought a finger up to his mouth. Stiles didn’t have the confidence right now to reiterate the question. Stiles instead decided to just count as Deaton working with unshakable intent. He glanced back up at Derek to see if he would at least silently acknowledge him with a nod or a shoulder shrug. 

Derek however was already looking directly at him with solid black eyes. Spooking him a little. Not expecting Derek to be making direct eye contact with him like that al-

“No!” Stiles shrieked, bursting up out of the chair he was sitting in, his heart rate beating ramping up so hard it almost hurt. 

“No, no, no no no no.” Stiles blubbered out, standing still now, frozen in shock and fear, not able to break eye contact with Derek's obsidian eyes. Derek simply stood there, not making any motion, Stiles couldn’t ever see his chest rise or fall with breathing. 

“Fuck, fuck. No no this- I” Stiles whimpered. He fell asleep again he didn’t know when but, he can feel it in his rapid beating heart that he passed out into another nightmare. Stiles doesn’t know what to do, there's nothing he can do here besides wait and see what this nightmare will bring to him. If he didn’t feel useless before he certainly does now, the skinny worthless human who can’t even stay awake.

Stiles didn’t have the courage to look anywhere else beside Derek's eyes, too afraid to see something he didn't want to. His hands and forearms started to feel icy with adrenaline.

“D-” Stiles breathes out, fear constricting his throat. His fingers jittering. Stiles musters up every ounce of gusto left his body, and tries again

“Derek” Stiles gets out, barely. Derek doesn’t move a single bit, not even a facial tick. Just the endless void of obsidian gazing right through him. He can feel his balance ebb and flow the longer this interaction lasts. He doesn’t know if he’ll be able to stay upright much longer, the objects in his far peripheral starting to blur and spin. But he refuses to break sight, fearing something much worse was lurking.

There's a set of two knocks from the sliding door, almost sounding like the knocks were coming from rocks rather than hands. 

Derek blinks, his eyes returning to normal with that fraction of his eyelids being closed. But his lifeless stare doesn’t change. Derek instead turns his entire head to look at the door, not using his eyes to lead him.

“Derek!? Derek please stop!” Stiles whines out instinctually. Regardless of the fact he's acutely aware this isn't Derek. Stiles clenches and unclenches his jaw, his right cheek beginning to twitch from stress. He squeezes his sweaty palms closed, trying to brave the turn to the mystery guest knocking at the door.

Slowly. . .

Stiles shifts his eyes towards the door, expecting the worst and yet nothing at all.

His breath hitches while his heart skips a beat. The ice in his arms clutches his heart in an instant as he sees what's on the other side of the glass.

A gaunt figure cloaked in a deep crimson set of tattered robes long enough to move with the wind. With the hood masquerading it’s face, only a glowing red eye in the left socket was visible. He glanced down noticing a pair of glowing red scissors being held in it’s left hand, the air around them shifting with incandescence. Stiles noticed that it’s hands were instead just skeletal, possessing no muscle nor skin.

Stiles swallowed, making him realize he also wasn’t breathing. Despite knowing he was holding his breath tight Stiles couldn’t get himself to exhale. None of his nightmares have ever been this fearsome.

The cloaked figure stood motionless, keeping it’s eyes locked on Stiles. He took a cautious yet shaky step back. But the intruder took that step as a sign for activation. It took a step forward, then another. Stiles dread only spikes as he watched it slowly walk through the glass door, phasing through it like it wasn’t there. It’s appearance now even more clear, it’s feet skeletal much like it’s hands. A vast array of beaded necklaces dangled around its neck, clanging together as it walked. The floor clacked as its feet striked against the wood. His pace was agonizingly slow yet far too fast.

“Ev-er near-ing, ne-ver veer-ing” The spectral called out, it’s voice grating against Stiles ears. It’s voice changing pitch with each syllable as it rasped out the words. 

Stiles was hyperventilating, He hastily looked around in a panicked haze only to see no one was in the room any longer. Spiking his adrenaline to levels above what he thought possible. Stiles fought demons before for god's sake, but this apparition of his mind was nothing he could prepare for.  
“O-ver-arch-ing, dom-i-neer-ing”

Stiles turned to run to the front door.

“Cha-o-tic, yet it's on its way”

He tripped on the steps up slamming his shin in the edge of the step like the miserable klutz he was, only in a time of fight or flight does he fall on four fucking stairs.

“Des-po-tic: be-set, come what may”

Stiles clambered up and got to his feet, continuing to the door limping.

“What is this un-yield-ing lot”

The footsteps racking against the flooring were nearing, but Stiles refused to turn back.

“That can't be fought, that can't be bought?”

Stiles grips the door as he practically collapses into it, frantically feeling for the door handle. 

“It binds us tight-ly in its thrall…”

Stiles looks down, feeling the bile in his throat as he notices a key part of the door is missing. The knob.

“The one thing that a-waits us all.”

Stiles spins around daring to look at the figure to see how close it was. But as he finishes turning he finds himself back at the spot he was standing in right before he started running. The figure standing right before him, barely a foot away. It’s arm raised high in the air with the scissors gripped tightly.

Stiles shrieked. He stood motionless, his muscles no longer cooperating. 

With one fell swoop the cloaked intruder swung it’s arm down, slicing the scissors right through Stiles chest.

Stiles yelped out in pain as he shot himself out of the chair, his breathing deep and sporadic and he clutched his chest. His breathing was sporadic and shaky. He fell to his knees as he doubled over, the fear rendering him weak. Stiles' eyes were shut tightly, he refused to open them as he began to rock in place. A gentle hand placed on his back made him jolt quickly but he remained incapacitated. He could tell people were talking but he couldn’t hear anything, only the shifting volumes of voices.

He just sat there for what felt like hours, rocking himself back and forth as he tried to regain his breathing patterns.

“St uhls” A voice called him, muffled from the adrenaline and deeper than reality. He felt the palm still placed against his shoulder trying to ground him. 

But what was even real at this point, was this too another nightmare wrapped in a facade of being awake?

A second hand grabbed him, and began shaking him with dire need.

“Stiles!” A voice pierced his panicked haze, but he didn’t want to open his eyes. “Stiles what happened?!” 

He recognized Derek’s voice.

“Sh-...” He stuttered, breathless and afraid to talk. “Show me your red eyes. P-please.” Stiles whimpered 

“Stiles what? I d-”

“Derek please!” He whined, “I need this.”

“I-, ok, ok. Ok I need you to open your eyes though.” Derek said gently.

Stiles bravely forced his eyes open fighting against his core instinct to keep them close. Derek was already kneeling before him. Stiles braced himself before going to meet Derek’s eyes. 

He sighed with relief when he was met with the brilliant ruby of Derek’s alpha eyes. But the wave of relief had its duality as he watched Derek’s eyes go back to normal. With the adrenaline running its course he became aware of another pain in his body. He instinctively brought his hand up to his chest, wincing at the contact immediately. He pressed harder to confirm the correlation. Not only did he confirm that ouch, that indeed hurt. But his shirt stuck to his chest where he applied pressure. 

He could feel eyes on him, but he also heard Scott gasp out of shock. 

“Dude?! What happened to you?”

“It was just another nightmare Scott nothing.” He paused mid sentence when he looked down to see his shirt was growing red with blood.

Did he shriek? Maybe. 

By this point everyone was back inside, Lydia was already getting damp rags from the kitchen for Stiles while Scott and Isaac literally ran to the bathroom to get first aid supplies. Everyone else remained in the area but made space while whispering to themselves filling each other in on things they didn’t know.

Lydia returned to Stiles, lifting his shirt ignoring his protests to examine his chest. Her mouth was agape.

“What?” He asked

“Stiles your chest. What happened in the dream?” She asked back, requested rather.

“I don't really want to talk about it…” He said plain and simple. Trying his hardest not to recall what happened.

“Well then care to explain why you have a fresh clean slice across your chest?” He could tell Lydia was already impatient with him. She continued to apply pressure with the rags regardless.

“Hmm, I hate to be the bearer of bad news,” Deaton interrupted. “But it appears that Jackson received the same cut.” 

“What!?” Practically everyone shouted in half unison

“Derek, as much as I would normally love to say this in any other scenario. Lift up your shirt.” Lydia commanded.

“I can already feel it.” Derek confirmed, taking off his shirt completely regardless to examine it.

“Interesting.” Deaton said to himself quietly.

“What!?” Scott and Isaac shouted together as they returned with first aid, confused at the development. Stiles just gave him a weak lopsided smile that said I don't know either. 

“Isaac, use this on Derek.” Lydia said as she tossed him one of the wet rags, Isaac sheepishly obliged as he began to clean off Derek’s wound. Normally Derek would argue as he was perfectly capable of doing it himself but he knew Lydia was trying to make people feel useful. 

“Scott, did you grab gauze?” She asked, taking full control of the situation at this point. 

“Yea- yea.” Scott replied, already hurrying over to Lydia.

“You finish helping Stiles and wrap the gauze around his chest after applying bandages on him.” She said, giving him the bloody rag. ‘Ew’ Scott huffed as he took the rag, but Lydia ignored him with a roll of the eyes. “I need to help Jackson.” She said mainly to herself as mental checklist affirmation. She walked over to Deaton. Stiles just sat and watched as she was sorting this whole thing out. 

“Deaton.” She whispered to him. “Do you have a piece of cloth I can use to cover up his mark while I do this?” Deaton raised his eyebrow at the request but within seconds understood the reason.

“Ah,” He murmured as he reached into his sack to fetch a handkerchief. “Are you-?”

“I can’t.” She said, looking at him while slowly grabbing the handkerchief, pursing her lips. Deaton just simply nodded his head. He then stood up to give her a little cover, which she took as her que. She slid her hand under his shirt and put the cloth on his lower left hip while she shimmed his shirt up and over, snaking his arms out of the holes. Carefully lifting his head to pull the shirt off his body completely.

“Jax.” She said sadly as she examined his figure. He was gaunt. Whatever he went through in London took a severe toll on the man. She kept a hand steady on his hip as she went to clean up his chest. 

“Stiles,” Deaton interrupted his focus. “What happened in the dream? To at least cause this?” Deaton asked, attention now back to him. He could tell Lydia was thankful for that.

“Why does it matter?” He challenged, not wanting to rethink about the encounter with the cloaked figure.

“Because it would help us gain insight on this ordeal, on what ‘The Symposium’ has to do with this.” Garnering the questioning looks of everyone including Lydia who turned back around at that while still rubbing Jackson’s chest. “And i’ve been watching Derek, It seems that either Isaac isn’t doing a good job or Derek is healing at a human rate.” Isaac blushed in embarrassment at the brief comment

“A cloaked skeleton slashed me with glowing red scissors ok?!” Stiles rushed out. “Are you happy now? Can we drop it?!” Stiles was getting aggravated, he knew the situation called for it, and he knew they couldn’t possibly know what happened but he didn’t want to trigger another event. Today has felt like the longest day imaginable. How could so much mystery and trauma fit into 12 hours.

“That confirms the cut, yes.” Deaton confirmed with himself. “But nothing else.” Derek took in a breath as thought getting ready to start speaking but Stiles cut him off despite his previous remark

“You know what no. Im just- Im just sick of this ok?! Every time I fall asleep some creepy nightmare happens that apparently affects me like real life! First the hell hound, then Derek's bedroom melting, Jackson texting me, The hellhound again, and now a Skeleton with scissors reciting some weird poem to me?!” Stiles was almost out of breath. “I'm just tired of it! And i'm literally tired. I can't even close my eyes anymore, constantly afraid of another nightmare.” He sat back down in the chair and slumped trying to ignore the fact everyone was looking at him

Deaton cleared his throat. “I need everyone to leave the room please except you three and Lydia.” He said with no room for negotiation, everyone slowly filtered back outside. Making Stiles feel even worse that for the second time everyone is forced outside just because he's having a breakdown. 

“Stiles, the poem. What was it about?” Deaton asked. “These nightmares you’re having are without doubt messages that need to be decoded. Something greater is at work here.” 

“It was kind of a riddle uh-” Stiles went and recited the poem to him. Only remembering it out of the association of fear.

“Hmm, the one thing that awaits us all.” Deaton pondered for a second before a look of realization and confusion took over his face. 

“Fate.” Deaton said softly. “But could it?” He looked at Lydia again. “I remember now. The symposium is an ancient greek text that states humans are split in two and must find their other half, true love ensuing.”

“Right, that's what we read in the basement.” Derek said

“But I read up on matchmades once. Typically matches when they try to deny the other feel an insatiable pull to the other until it eventually becomes painful.” Derek and Stiles both glance at each other sheepishly. Deaton was still looking at Lydia, Lydia returning the gaze. “But in the event that three people were in a match. When they deny their match made bond. The greek goddesses of fate, the Morai intervene. Deeming pairs of three their responsibility, for obvious reasons. Stiles I believe now the Fate have been approaching you aggressively through your dreams trying to tell you something, a warning almost.”

Stiles again looks back to Derek, confused. Derek speaking first “I- I don't understand. I just found out Stiles had my mark.” 

“The pull of a match can take effect if just one of the parties is aware of the other. In a triad if one person knows of the other two or all three know of one other the pull starts taking effect. It's becoming increasingly clear as to what has been going on.” The two boys looked on with suspense while Lydia looked horrified at what was about to be revealed. Right as Deaton was about to continue speaking Jackson began coughing wet and deep, bringing himself to a half consciousness. Lydia immediately propping him up trying to help in any way possible.

“Jackson? You with me?” Lydia asks out, seeing if he was well enough to respond

“Lyds?” We responded back weakly followed by another fit of coughs “I-” He stopped after tearing his gaze to look around and seeing Deaton, Stiles, and Derek all looking at him. “Oh no” Jackson immediately shot his hand down to his hip where Lydia still had her hand at. He again looked back to Lydia, smiling softly at the sentiment. 

“Do they..?” 

“Um, if they don't by now then i don’t know what to say.” Lydia answered defeatedly.

“Do we?” Stiles asked, parroting what Jackson said. He looked over to Derek who was now looking at the floor with a pinched face. Stiles replayed everything from the last few hours in his mind piecing together everything. What Lydia was about to say in the basement before “Jackson…” He whispered. Of course, it. It made sense now they way they were dancing around it carefully. Stiles chalks it up to the recent adrenaline and trauma for being to stupid to put together something so simply.

“Jackson.” Derek said after Stiles. In a clipped tone. “You too?”

“I- Derek Im. Im sorry but -” Jackson started but Derek cut him off

“You know what, just forget it, both of you.” Derek's voice sounded heated and hurt now as he turned to start walking away. His face still contorted in a confused grimace.

“Derek!” all of them called in partial unison but Derek was already walking at a fast pace to the door and before they knew it the door was being slammed. They all sat in silence for a few seconds. Constantly on the verge of trying to process event after event that keeps happening today.

But all they were able to do was look back and forth at each other. Wondering what they were supposed to do, waiting for another to make a move. 

“Well, i suppose I should go try and find him.” Deaton said simply, gathering his things and standing up. Before turning to leave he looked at both the boys. “Neither one of you leave the area, got it? We can’t let this curse worsen.” And with that he was walking to the door. Leaving them with another bout of silence. Stiles wanted to say something but he didn’t have anything to say, and he wasn’t about to make a fool of himself. 

“Well… I'm going to go outside and make sure everyone is ok. Ok?” Lydia breached, “Maybe talk something out?” She gave Jackson’s shoulder a squeeze before she stood up and went to head out the back door. And for the 3rd time in one minute, more silence. Stiles refused to be the one to initiate conversation. The more he thought about it the more he realized him and Jackson weren’t particularly on great terms. And he figured if he just kept his mouth shut he wouldn’t have the chance to say anything stupid.

“So how long have you known?” Stiles blurted out, interrupting his inner monologue, failing at the shutting up part like always. “I mean like. I assume you knew. Someone has to have and Derek clearly was caught by surprise and…” Stiles put his knuckle in his mouth to get himself to stop talking. Just opting out to look at Jackson instead, to see if anything he just said clicked.

“Uhm. I” Jackson looked incredibly uncomfortable with the question. “The 9th grade. One time, in the showers I…” 

“The 9th grade?! You’ve known that long?” Stiles was a little shocked, it wasn’t terribly long, but still, over five years at least. He couldn’t be bothered with mental math right now but. “But, so then if you know. Why. Why were you still always such an ass to me man?” 

Hmm, Stiles wasn’t sure if thats how he wanted to phrase that, but it's true! 

“M-Me? Every single time you saw me it was a face or, or ‘hey douchebag!’”

“Because every time you saw ME it was always ‘loser’, or ‘dumbass’ or even ‘how’s your mom’ that one time! Hmm?!”

“You were always purposely keeping me out of the loop! Everytime anything happened I was always the last to find out and had to just go with it!” 

They were both yelling now.

“Ok but that was when we were in the pack years after what we’re talking about! You want to talk about excluding how about when you always told me Lydia didn’t want me at her house, OR when you would always talk about your parties loudly in front of me and invite everyone else!? Even Scott!” Stiles was fuming now, digging up all his old anger he thought he had long squashed. 

“You were insufferable! You said on numerous occasions that you wished I would drop off the face of the earth. I knew you never liked me! So why should I waste my time getting dirt kicked on me by someone who doesn’t care by trying to be nice!”

“When did you ever try Jackson!? When i heard you were back I was almost excited to see you again but now i remember why I was so fucking happy, that you left!” 

Jackson clenched his jaw, twisting his face.

“You- You wanna know why I really left? Because I read that match made separations could.” Jackson paused, his eye twitched as a tear shot down his cheek. He brought his arm up to his face with haste to confirm that he really just let a tear slide. He let out a quick breath “Just forget it Stiles I-” 

“No! I want to hear, I’m” Stiles did a 180 seeing Jackson’s tear, he didn’t think Jackson was even capable of emotions like this, especially not for him. “I'm sorry. I thought I was over this anger and I shouldn't have yelled at you like that.” 

“I read that, matchmades could slowly die if they rejected the bond.” And even Jackson seemed surprised, probably admitting it out loud for the first time. He looked cautiously to Stiles, ashamed and embarrassed. Something overtook Stiles as he cupped Jacksons cheek and brought his face to his. He connected their lips tentatively, if only for a few seconds before they parted, Jackson seeming to be out of breath. But Stiles not doing too much better.

“You were right Stiles.” Jackson said, prompting Stiles to raise an eyebrow. “I am a dumbass.” 

“Me too.” Stiles agreed softly, holding Jackson's hand in his. “Hey uh do- do you think I could see it? Your mark? I mean obviously if you’re uncomfortable it's ok! I just wanted to ask because I’ve never seen it and I-” Jackson cut him off but standing up off the couch, and reaching to pull up his shirt. On his right hip sat a triskelion to match his own, with gold coloring on the left spiral. It almost made Stiles hungry seeing it, weirdly. It activated something inside of him, wanting more. Jackson put his shirt back down bringing Stiles back. They locked eyes again. Tense and a little awkward. 

“Jax, why didn’t you tell me? It kinda stings you wouldn’t tell me, was I not good enough?” 

Jackson went to open his mouth but before he could respond Stiles interrupted just has fast as he stopped talking

“Oh shit no, Derek!” 

┈ ┈ ┈ ⋞ 〈 ⏣ 〉 ⋟ ┈ ┈ ┈


End file.
